


Sonnets of the Heart

by Willma



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical Slavery, Damen and Laurent just want to be together, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Marriage Consummation, Mistress, Political Alliances, Post-Canon, also they're very sexually frustrated, problems of a a joint kingdom, the issue of a legitimate heir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willma/pseuds/Willma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘We both hold the centre,’ said Laurent. ‘It was one kingdom, once.’</p>
<p>        ‘Yes,’ said Damen.</p>
<p>	After overcoming a great many hardships, Damen and Laurent witness the execution of the Regent and the death of Kastor. Laying on the marble floor with a pool of blood surrounding them, the two Kings of their respective countries make an oath to unite their kingdoms and rule alongside each other as equals. But at what cost? </p>
<p>With the fate of the two countries hanging in the balance and their fragile relationship constantly threatened by long-held traditions, political conflict, and jealousy, Damen and Laurent come to the gruelling realization that maintaining peace is much harder than waging war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This my first fic for the Captive Prince fandom and I'm quite proud of it. The idea was basically inspired by this prompt: "One does not simply merge a kingdom" *Insert Sean Bean's voice* LOL
> 
> This will be a long, multi-chaptered story and I will try my best to update every week. The story picks up immediately after Kings Rising and tells the tale of our two favourite characters and their struggles to remain together. Many loose ends will be addressed; It is also heavy on plot, but with enough porn to keep you satisfied.
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy! Any comments/criticisms are much appreciated.

‘He is one stubborn mule is he not?’

Damen floated in the brink of consciousness. His mind hazy and his body sore; all signs of a battle hard won. His stomach hurt with the distinctive sting of healing salves.

‘While I understand your frustration, I do not think it wise to insult him in front of his commander.’

‘Exalted—'

‘Look at him, he’s red in the face,’ And then, ‘Why don’t you tie him to the bed Paschal? Surely he won’t be able to reopen the wound in that state.’

He could recognize that voice—impeccable and cool, with just a hint of warmth reserved for his closest allies— anywhere. Slowly opening his eyes, Damen blinked a few times to adjust to the bright sunlight illuminating the chamber—the King’s bedchamber—once belonging to his father and now his by default. He made a low noise that attracted his target’s attention, and Laurent was by his side in an instant; gently cupping his face with one hand and speaking to him as he would to a sickly child.

‘Damen,’ Laurent said with a small relieved breath.

‘Damianos! Thank heavens you're awake,’ Nikandros who indeed appeared to be red in the face exclaimed. Behind him, an annoyed-looking Paschal stood while holding a length of rope in one hand, and his medical sac in the other.

‘How long was I asleep?’ Before Laurent could answer, Paschal stepped forward, ‘Your Highness—I mean Exalted, while I can sympathize with your need to be up and about, your tendency to awaken at the most inopportune times only to reopen your newly stitched wound is becoming rather tedious to bear.’

‘They want to tie you to the bed,’ said Nikandros, who was eyeing the rope as if it had personally insulted him.

‘You have been sleepwalking,’ Laurent said softly, unbothered by the tension radiating off the two men behind him.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘Two days,’ Laurent answered and then turned to address the others, ‘Leave us.’

After a short protest from Nikandros, and further examination by Pascal with a strict order to remain horizontal for the foreseeable future, the two scurried out and Damen was left alone with Laurent.

‘Come here,’ said Damen, because he found that despite their proximity, anything short of physical contact would not assure him of Laurent’s presence.

_He is alive, and he is here._

Laurent paused for only a moment before closing the small gap between them; gracefully sitting on the bed and placing one hand beside Damen’s head to recline himself. He had changed back to his tight-laced Veretian clothing: a simple sky blue jacket with a short front and longer sides, covering his well-shaped thighs. Laurent's trousers were the colour of the chiton he had on during the trial; this one being free of the latter’s dirt and stains. The sunlight amplified Laurent’s beauty as he gazed down at Damen; his shoulders slightly tense and his golden lashes fluttering as he tried to blink the sleep out of them.

‘You look exhausted,’ Damen whispered, overwhelmed by the man’s all-encompassing presence.

‘It’s been rather hectic,’ Laurent admitted quietly. ‘Your men are not yet accustomed to obeying a Vertian princeling.’

‘You mean King,’ Damen pointed out with a smile. The idea of his retinue scrambling about, trying but failing to measure up to Laurent’s sumptuous expectations shouldn’t amuse him as it did.

‘That depends if I can make it in time for my own coronation.’ Damen tried to sit up but was stopped by a firm hand on his chest pushing him back.

‘Didn’t you hear Paschal?’

‘You are not yet recognized as King?’ The thought worried him. Laurent being in Ios instead of securing his position as the rightful ruler in Arles meant that the last of the Regent’s supporters had an opportunity to start an uprising in his absence.

‘Vere is not as simplistic as Akielos. While the crown is automatically passed on to you with little impediment or pleasantries, my country is much more...adorned.’

Damen opened his mouth to ask more questions but Laurent silenced him with a raised hand. ‘I must return to Arles tonight as I have a meeting with the council. My uncle’s former councillors have all pledged their loyalty to me and were escorted back to Vere along with Vannes who is going to ensure that my temporary absence will not give rise to another revolt. I have also spoken with Nikandros and he’s agreed—albeit reluctantly—to provide me with the names and positions of the Kyroi; I have a letter prepared to be sent to the Kyros of each region, summoning them to Kingsmeet for an official summit,’ Laurent stood up and walked to the desk to pick up the letters. ‘All you have to do is sign them.’

Damen who had been observing Laurent’s expressions the entire time knew instantly that all that Laurent had described had not been an easy afternoon errand. Like a hound dog at a royal hunt, Laurent was—as always—many steps ahead of him.

‘Have you slept at all in the past two days?’ Laurent ignored him and continued reciting what there was to be done. 

'Then there’s the matter of Kastor’s burial—’ Damen stiffened at that and Laurent let out a small sigh, ‘I anticipated this reaction but the sooner you deal with his body, the sooner we can attend to more pressing matters.’

Damen tried to sit up again and looking at his somber expression, Laurent didn’t stop him this time. ‘Deal with his body?’

‘I mean dispel. I am not familiar with Akielon tradition pertaining to treacherous royalty.’

Damen closed his eyes in an attempt to block the assaulting memories of his brother’s death from his mind. Laurent fighting with Kastor, meticulously side-stepping his moves and mercilessly taking his life. It was not as if Damen still held on to any doubt about the nature of Kastor’s intentions; he knew what he had been capable of, the extent of his hatred, his brother had been beyond saving and the gaping wound on his stomach was proof of that. Yet, Damen could not help but wonder what had gone through Laurent’s mind as he wielded the sword against Kastor. Had he been thinking about August as he eviscerated his brother? Had he thought it just or even necessary?

As if his thoughts were spoken aloud, Laurent made his way back to Damen’s bed and leaned in, speaking in a low, almost defensive tone. ‘If you’re wondering whether I felt any guilt for dispensing with your brother I will let you know that I did not. You have seen me, you know my empathy for traitors and backstabbers is limited at best.’

Damen looked away to collect himself. His expression had given too much away. However, now that the subject was broached, he had to know, ‘Did you do it to avenge August?’ When Laurent tipped his head in confusion, he voiced his concerns: ‘Was it a final play against me for what I did to your family?’

Laurent’s expression turned sour, making his fine brows furrowed, ‘I did it because he hurt you,’ he said harshly, ‘I killed him because he dared to betray you again despite your show of mercy. He—he didn’t deserve your love Damen. Kastor was a snake; serpents don't change their nature, they just take on a new skin.’

Once the words left his mouth, Damen felt Laurent go over their meaning in his mind and then—slightly taken aback—he said, ‘I didn’t mean...I am not like that anymore.’

Carefully raising his hand, Damen caressed the top of Laurent’s thigh gently, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern over his right hip, just above the delicate bone. Laurent gave out an involuntary shiver but stayed motionless under Damen’s hand. His lips pressed into a tight line.

Still caressing, Damen spoke in a soft tone, ‘I am sorry. I was too quick to make assumptions about your intentions. You are rather unpredictable and I know my past actions have brought you pain. I guess I thought you still harboured some contempt against me for what happened to your brother.’

Laurent let out a long breath he had been holding, and covered Damen’s hand on his hip with his own, stilling the back and forth motion, ‘I am well passed that. Any grudges I held against you have been dealt with. I—August would have wanted me to be happy.’

He said it simply, as if there was no greater truth.

‘Even with me?’ Asked Damen in a small voice.

‘Especially with you.’ 

There was a pause, during which Damen--whose wound was beginning to ache from the strain of sitting up--laid down once again and pressed the back of his hand on his forehead. The air felt somewhat heavier around him and he found it difficult to breathe. ‘Have you ever attended an Akielon funeral?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, ‘Unless the deceased has declared otherwise in life, we light an arrow with fire and set the body aflame as it floats down the gulf of Atros. It’s quite splendid. ’

Laurent raised a fine brow, ‘You wish to send him away as a prince and not as the traitor he was.’ 

‘He was my brother. This is my parting gift,’ Damen said with a tone that rang of finality. Laurent who had been holding on to Damen’s hand, took a step back as if to physically distance himself from the subject and nodded once, ‘Very well. I’ll see to the preparations.’

‘You will not attend the funeral,’ It was not a question. Damen knew he would be alone in this.

‘It is not out of spite. I must return to Vere to meet with Audin, Herode and the rest of the Council before they change their minds and withdraw their support,’ said Laurent with a short laugh.

‘And what of my brother’s remaining supporters?’

‘Nikandros has dealt with them swiftly and in accordance to justice,' Laurent sounded almost fond. ‘Those who turned and pledged their allegiance to you were pardoned, and those who resisted were executed.’

It was a fate to be expected. Any act of treason against the King was punishable by death, especially during times of mutiny.

‘What of our plan?’ Damen did not need to clarify, yet his voice had gone more quiet.

‘We will bring up the unification once our countries have stabilized and we’re both secure on our thrones. There is no point in building something when the foundations are precarious at best.’

‘That means you would have to be coronated.’

‘Yes.' Then softly, ‘Will you be there?’

Once again it dawned on Damen that Laurent was new to this, to everything. While they had sat on their twin thrones during battle preparations at Marlas, Laurent had never sat on a King’s throne, nor had he flexed his authority over the court, let alone the country. And neither had Damen, but his transition had been much less striking as he had always been involved in matters of war and ruling as a young boy, so filled with dreams of glory and honour, he had been eager to please his father.

‘I wish for nothing more than to see you sitting on a golden throne, wearing a crown befitting your excellence, your intelligence and your grace in all manners and form. You—’ Damen had to swallow the emotions pushing at his throat, ‘You would be breathtaking.’

Laurent’s cheeks coloured slightly at his words, ‘You still haven’t signed the letters.’

‘You are a distraction.’

‘I could leave.’

‘I would much rather you stayed. I would look at you all night.’

‘Is that all you would be doing? At the Kingsmeet you should tell the Kyroi you wish to sign the Akielos-Vere peace treaty once again.’

Taken aback by his words, Damen opened his mouth to voice his objections, but closed it once the true reason behind this suggestion came to view, ‘You want to include new conditions.’

‘I find that the so-called peace treaty brokered between my uncle and Kastor has too many loopholes and if-clauses,’ Laurent smiled. ‘If we are going to unite our kingdoms one day, there needs to be real peace among our nations. It has to be strong and concise since this would be the first move towards our goal.’

‘Another elaborately cunning scheme? Why don’t we just announce our true intention and buy the Council, as well as the Kyroi with the truth and a promise of a better future?’

‘My honourable barbarian, It seems as though the recent events have not had the least bit of influence on your untarnishable morality,’ Laurent stepped closer to the bed once again and straddled Damen’s hips in one swift motion, eliciting a pleased response from Damen who placed his hands on the sides of Laurent’s waist almost reflexively.

‘ _Laurent_ ’ Damen gasped.

‘Once a proper peace treaty is signed, the Kyroi will become more secure in their transactions with Vere, and my coronation will assure the Council of the stability of the royal household,’ Laurent rocked his hips once in a deep, slow motion that ignited sparks beneath Damen’s eyelids.

‘Only then,’ He brushed his palms on Damen’s bare chest, ‘Can we begin implanting ideas of new trade routes at Fortaine, Delpha and Sicyon among our members. Both Vere and Akielos have suffered economically as a result of war efforts. In a matter of months, the people of both countries will be tempted to move closer to the borders in favour of a more stable climate and profitable trade,’ Laurent circled his hips once again and arched his back like a well crafted bow, allowing Damen to slightly dig his nails into Laurent’s unmarked flesh.

Damen’s wound gave a stinging protest but Laurent made sure not to brush against the tender spot. ‘It’ll—’ he took a deep breath to steady himself, already aroused from Laurent’s teasing, ‘It’ll take months, perhaps even a year for that to be accomplished.’

Laurent leaned in until their lips were only inches apart from each other; their breaths mingling and eyelashes tickling sensitive skin, ‘Don’t tell me you thought uniting two former enemy kingdoms could be done overnight,’ Laurent teased yet his voice had become slightly strained. Less controlled. It was only due to their close proximity that Laurent’s small reactions to pleasure—the slight tremors running through his body and his semi-dilated pupils—could be detected. Damen jerked his hips forward while simultaneously pushing Laurent back down onto his clothed cock. His hands roaming the muscular curve of Laurent’s back, gripping them not too gently.

‘Ah…’ Laurent breathed out, ‘Tell me you agree.’

‘Are you always this talkative when I’m making love to you?’

Laurent reacted to the words but pressed his point, ‘Agree to proceed with my plans. Once—’ he caught his breath after another sensual grind. ‘Once trade populates the areas near the centre, we’ll have gained enough credibility and financial leverage from the Kyroi and the Council that we may broach the subject gradually. Of course we would have to watch out for their weaknesses and note their desires in case—’

Damen brought up his thumb and gently patted it over Laurent’s full mouth in hopes of silencing him, at least for the moment.

Instead, after a moment of hesitation during which all motions ceased except for the unsteady rhythm of Damen’s heart, Laurent parted his lips and sucked the digit in, holding it inside his mouth while his tongue swirled around the tip. Damen made a hissing sound and closed his eyes against the obscene act; he could hear himself curse in Akielon. The sight of Laurent’s mouth around anything but vicious insults and barbed remarks was enticing, if not life-altering.

Laurent muttered something while still sucking on Damen’s thumb. Instead of letting go, Laurent willed Damen to listen with his icy blue eyes. He made a sound again that sent vibrations through Damen’s hand and travelled straight to his cock.

‘All right! Gods above, you will be the end of me,’ Damen exclaimed with a groan as he slid out his now saliva-slicked finger from Laurent’s mouth and frantically sat up. Laurent who simply swallowed the taste, continued to stare at Damen through lidded eyes, his neck slightly tilted to one side; a sign that Damen--to his delight--could identify as an uncontrolled display of pleasure. _It is impossible not to be infatuated with this man_ Damen thought. Lifting his wet thumb, he slowly brought it to the juncture between Laurent’s neck, and slid it over the soft spot there, eliciting a shiver. Damen brought his face closer to that ripe expanse of skin and placed a chaste kiss over one of Laurent’s veins, then he gently sucked on the same area, placing several open mouthed kisses along the line of the blond’s jaw; never lingering on one spot so as to avoid leaving a visible mark.

Laurent’s pristine skin was beginning to glimmer as he dug his heels in Damen’s back, encouraging him to slam their primed bodies together, once, twice; still carefully avoiding his injury.

‘Oh…’ Another small, barely audible moan, ‘So is that a yes?’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Damen all but growled. Then he cupped the back of Laurent’s neck and brought their faces together for a slow, then ravishing kiss.

Laurent’s breath hitched. Damen’s lips were upon his, nibbling at the corners of his mouth, exploring the curves of the soft flesh. He was unstoppable, half lost in his desire to possess the object of his affections wholly from the inside out. Damen breathed his scent in, mussing the golden hair at his nape. The faint smell of ink and riding leathers clouding his senses. He dragged his mouth over Laurent’s full lower lips, pressing fevered kisses there, as well as on his chin.

Laurent’s body could only take as Damen took his mouth apart, piece by piece. One small area after another teased and tasted. He gently swiped his tongue over Lauren’t lips as the blond opened for him like a white spring rose, his body pliant and sweet under roaming hands. Laurent’s lips stayed parted as Damen’s tongue explored and conquered. His cock aligned with Laurent’s entrance over layers of clothing.

He was aware of everything yet nothing at the same time; the slow back and forth motion of Laurent’s hips, the press of his swollen erection hidden behind the laced trousers against his stomach.

Damen—as always—battled with competing impulses. He dragged his fingers over Laurent’s ribs, towards his chest and to the back of his firm shoulders. Laurent’s palms found purchase in Damen’s curled hair; untangling his limbs that had been clasped around Damen’s waist in favour of pressing his knees onto the silk mattress to balance himself. His chest softly brushing Damen’s face as he rested his chin on the dark head.

As if in silent communication, Damen laid his forehead over Laurent’s racing heart before pressing a hand on his back to hold him still as his right hand began unlacing the thick fabric. One after another the clasps gave way and parted beneath Damen’s trained hands and soon enough the jacket opened completely, baring Laurent’s toned chest. His perked nipples.

‘You’re not wearing an undershirt,’ Damen whispered against heated skin.

‘It’s too hot for that.’

No matter how many times Damen saw Laurent naked, the sight of his exposed and slightly flushed body captivated Damen as if for the first time. He had never been like this, so poised he had been with his former bedmates as compared to the mindless abandon he experienced with the Veretian. Damen was having a hard time recalling those whose bodies he had known intimately before Laurent.

_There was no before_ , Damen thought, _and there will certainly be no after_. Laurent had conquered him in every way fathomable.

Laurent had begun to move his hips faster, giving himself to pleasure instead of repressing his need, 'You are so sweet like this,’ said Damen. Praises escaping his lips without consent. He felt Laurent bow his head at his words. Damen ran his fingers over fair skin, circling a hard nipple. He brought his mouth closer to Laurent’s ear and noticed the hair raising at his nape. He tightened his grip on Laurent’s waist and whispered, ‘So beautiful beneath my hands.’

Damen only heard a sharp gasp before Laurent slowly but firmly removed himself from Damen’s arms and slipped off the bed as quickly as he had climbed it, walking towards the open balcony. Leaving Damen half sprawled on the sheets, aroused and confused.

The weather had been wonderful this time in Ios. The scorching sun giving way for the clouds that brought with them a cool breeze, brushing against heated skin, as if kissing it. Damen cared not for the changes in the sky, but for the changes within Laurent. For all the time he had spent with the man, he still found himself completely taken aback at times.

Unwilling to let the silence stretch out any longer, Damen—his arousal forgotten— also rose from the bed and made his way to where Laurent stood, overlooking the green fields of Isthima and the gulf of Atros from the King’s bedchamber. Unsure of how to proceed, Damen simply stood beside Laurent, taking in the sight of a young prince who was soon to be King; so fragile yet so strong, Laurent was full of contradictions.

'Have I offended you?’ Damen asked, careful as to not disrupt the eerie calm.

‘I just needed some air.’

‘Is it because of what I said?’

‘You praised me Damen,’ Laurent turned his neck to face him with impenetrable eyes; they were distant, as if living in a different time. ‘I hardly find that offensive.’

‘You are upset,’ Damen said softly, afraid to unnerve him further. When he was not graced with an answer, Damen briefly closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air, the smell of home.

Laurent didn't smell like home, he was the exact opposite of what the term represented. Ios for Damen was stability and a sense of calmness, of peace and belonging; Laurent smelled like danger, of the sweat of intense fighting and the passion of lovemaking, of long hours of horseback riding and the pump of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Laurent was not stable, Laurent was not calm. He was the ice that shocked the body and stole the breath from Damen’s lungs.

‘I am helpless against you.’

‘I’m sorry?’ The change of subject had startled Laurent, pulling him back from that distant place his eyes had gone.

‘I think you have broken me,’ Damon’s voice sounded foreign in his ears but he went on. ‘I think I was lost the moment I laid eyes on you in Arles, held captive and chained on that damned marble floor. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.’ Laurent’s eyes widened and he gripped the stone fence for support; he opened his mouth to respond but Damen felt the need to speak so he continued ‘I hated you then, and in the baths I hated myself for wanting you. Yet the more I came to know you, the more I realized that my infatuation with you was not physical at all, or at least not at first—'

‘ _Damen_ ’

‘Let me finish,’ Damen swallowed, Laurent’s grip on the fence had gotten tighter, ‘I didn't even associate you with a body since it was your mind that slowly lured me in. It was only when I kissed you on the battlements that my hunger for your body was fully ignited…I took you in Ravenel and for the first time in my life, I considered giving up my kingdom.’

‘I must have been quite a fuck,’ Laurent said mockingly, the tremor in his voice unmistakable; his eyes clouded with something indecipherable; appearing distant once again.

‘But it was just the opposite. I wanted to possess the mind that was attached to the body, not the body that also happened to have a working mind.’ Damen was shocked at the ease with which the words were flowing from his mouth, yet he had no intention of stopping them.

‘And so I hope that you know, that when I hold you in my arms and make love to you, I am burying myself inside _you_ and not a pliant, unmarked body that differs so much from my own,’ Damen finished and let out a breath to settle his nerves. Throughout his monologue, he found that he had stepped closer, close enough to see the tense set of Laurent’s shoulders, the rapid movement of his eyes as he battled with something internal.

Slowly, Damen raised his arm and positioned himself at Laurent’s back; pressing him to his chest while they both looked at the blue horizon. At the first touch of his palm to Laurent’s semi bare chest, the body beneath his hands gave a small jerk; Laurent pressed himself further into the broad figure and craned his neck, resting it against Damen’s softly.

Damen could hear Laurent’s laboured breaths like the sound of drums banging in his ears. He brought up his free hand and rested it on Laurent’s hip, pressing his cock that was now half hard to Laurent’s curvaceous back.

‘I am lost in you,’ Damen whispered desperately, helplessly. And with that, Laurent disengaged himself once again. Expecting the blond to leave, Damen was shocked when he saw the ever-so-graceful and self-controlled Laurent go down to his knees, hastily pulling at Damen’s loose sleeping trousers that came down with a quick tug as he frantically wrapped his hand around Damen’s erection and unceremoniously, slid it in his mouth.

Damen’s head thrashed back as his body fought for control. He let out an audible groan and attempted to speak; to ask Laurent what had brought this on but the words flew out of his mind as Laurent grabbed onto his cheeks and began thrusting Damen’s large, leaking cock inside his mouth. Little throaty noises escaped Laurent as he swallowed his entire length with a fierce determination; only sliding off to suck at the swollen tip, tracing the sensitive veins with his tongue.

Damen called out to Laurent but it was as if the young man was in a trance. He suddenly pulled his cock out of his mouth completely, looking sultry with saliva and cum glossing his lips before he slid it back in with one practiced motion.The tip of Damen’s arousal slamming against the back of Laurent’s throat. Damen cried out and slid his fingers in Laurent’s light hair, tugging at it reflexively; the latter gave out a pleased sound at the touch, pulling at Damen’s hips to thrust his cock in an out of his seemingly wanton mouth.

It was surreal, how Laurent was so experienced in giving pleasure, yet so unsure of how to receive it. An innocent touch, or a kiss placed on the fine skin of his neck elicited shivers from Laurent’s core as he would slowly come undone; yet, when it came to more practical maneuvers, the Veretian was able to get on his knees and demonstrate his prowess as if he was a tavern boy and Damen was a customer with a loose pocket.

_Don’t touch me._ Laurent’s voice rang in Damen’s head. The memory of their time at the inn was so sudden that he gasped at the intrusion. He remembered the first time Laurent had kneeled before him and drank his seed; his only request had sounded playful to Damen’s ears. _He has knelt for me before_. Damen froze. It was as if his soul had deserted his body and was observing him from afar.

Damen saw himself pulling Laurent’s hair, restraining himself from thrusting inside Laurent’s mouth as he fed him his cock. _He was so lonely after his brother died_. Damen’s body started to shake, yet Laurent who was unaware of the change, continued with his ministrations. _I should have turned him away_ , The Regent had said in mock regret _but who could have resisted that face._

‘Stop!’

Laurent couldn’t hear him; so overtaken by the storm in his own mind that he did not notice Damen’s cock softening.

‘Laurent, _stop it_ ,’ Damen pleaded, his body cold and unresponsive. Laurent, who had finally come to his senses, snapped his head back and was kneeling at Damen’s feet; motionless as his stare flickered from Damen’s cock to his pale face. There was something vulnerable, almost childlike in the confused way Laurent looked up at him; all wide eyes and parted lips. _When this game started, I was younger_. Damen felt nauseous, he was going to be sick.

He took a step back and held on to the edge of the window to stop his legs from giving out. He remembered the Regent’s words, pleased with the knowledge of something corrupt and carnal. He had heard them at the Kingsmeet. He had spilled the blood of those who had stood in his way of eviscerating the man who had dared lay his hands on Laurent. Damen remembered now, even when his mind had temporarily perished it from his senses; a compulsory measure in order to save Laurent’s life at the trial. It seemed as though the images were resurfacing now, attacking his senses and eating away at his heart.

Damen looked down at Laurent only to see the fragile look replaced with a hard, immovable fury; an irrevocable hurt that was piercing through him with its intensity. _You don’t know anything about me and my uncle_ Laurent had spat, right after Damen had accused him of wanting to gain his uncle’s attention.

‘ _Laurent_ ’ Damen’s voice sounded broken in his own ears.

Hearing his name, Laurent rose to his feet and shoved Damen aside so he could stride back into the chamber, his legs swaying slightly, unstable.

Gathering his wits about him, Damen turned after redressing himself, taking long strides to catch up to Laurent. He called out his name and was responded with a curt ‘No’ from the blond who was wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, picking up his discarded jacket.

'Please Laurent, let me explain—'

‘Oh but there’s nothing to explain,’ Laurent said in a cold, terrible voice, ‘You’ve finally put two and two together and have come to the unsurprising realization that I was not worth the trouble after all.’

Damen inhaled sharply, ‘That is not—I would never—'

‘Do not insult me further by attempting to make up excuses for your disgust.’ This time, it was Laurent’s voice that sounded broken.

Damen shook his head in an attempt to clear it, then he took another step forward as he continued to face Laurent’s back; the line of his tense shoulders. ‘I was disgusted.’ He saw Laurent’s body coiling slightly at that. ‘I was disgusted but not at you Laurent, never at you,’ Damen added quickly, hoping his words could reach out to the man.

A dead silence took over. The chamber felt much smaller with the distance between their bodies keeping them apart.

‘And I am supposed to believe,’ Laurent began, quietly, bitterly, ‘that Damianos of Akielos, the man whose exclusive taste for virginal bedmates is widespread even among Veretians,’ his voice picking up in timbre, ‘was so overcome by madness during his time as a prince’s slave, that he is willing to take anyone’s sloppy seconds with open arms?’

‘Don’t say that!’ Damen yelled, pleading, ‘Do not speak of yourself this way, there’s no truth to it, to _any_ of it. Don’t—don’t hurt yourself and I this way.’

Laurent slowly turned around just enough to look at Damen over his shoulder; his eyes slightly misty in the daylight. ‘Don’t fool yourself Damianos. It _is_ the truth.’ And with that he left the room, leaving Damen alone with his thoughts. Large wooden doors shutting behind him by two guards who did not seem privy to what had transpired inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't wait to post this chapter, it's rather slow but I'm trying to get a few things out of the way before reaching key plot points. Trigger warning for mentions of child abuse. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos! You guys made my day <3

An interval of minutes, or maybe hours passed during which Damen’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, as if the act of looking up would have him vis-à-vis with Laurent’s eyes; so full of anger and tightly repressed hurt. 

Deciding to occupy himself, Damen went to his bed and picked up the letters Laurent had presented him with shortly after waking up; his handwriting precise and opulent with its little loops and accentuated curves. It was a mark of his fine, Veretian breed. He pressed the black feather inside the ink and began signing each letter meant for the provincial Kyroi, inviting them to Kingsmeet for the royal summit. 

There was much to be done. He needed to go over the revised conditions of the peace treaty with Laurent before brining it up at the summit. The signing of the legal documents had to be followed by a public ceremony, eventful and grand; a display of kinship and loyalty proving the stability of their bond. Damen also needed to persuade the Kyroi to neutralize their borders, allowing merchants to enter the cities for business transactions that would spark the beginnings of cultural integration between the two countries.

He couldn’t delay his duties any further no matter how much he wished to set everything aside and give his undivided attention to the man who had captured far more than his body. Damen let himself imagine—just for a moment—how it would have been between them had he not been a King, but a mere soldier; Laurent being no more than a scholar, or perhaps a wild-natured stable boy with a keen love for horses. It would have been so simple— _no_ , Damen thought, _simple was not a word one could associate with Laurent_ ; but it would have been easier to remain at his lover’s side. Damen trailing after Laurent wherever he went, pleasing him and trying to win his affection. 

But alas Damen was King; a fate he would soon share with Laurent within the span of a few days. Signing the final letter, Damen called for one of the guards to inquire about Pallas’ whereabouts.

‘I believe he’s in the training grounds Exalted.’

After getting dressed in proper garments—a fine robe made of red silk attached to a traditional chiton—Damen nodded his thanks to the guards who had assisted him in the task and made his way to the arena where Pallas was probably honing his martial skills. Walking through the long corridor, servants bowed to Damen at first in surprise and once again in reverence; whispering among themselves as they tried to conceal their gazes. 

‘Did you see him?’ One servant asked another, ‘Damianos in the flesh! Risen from the dead and ready to reclaim his throne.’ 

Damen had forgotten that most of his court at Ios, minus his personal guards and soldiers, had not seen him since the attack in the baths after which he was captured and sent to Vere as a slave. Much had happened after that, his initial captivity was to Damen but a distant memory.

Passing the royal gardens rich with fertile soil and filled with fruitful trees, he finally reached the training grounds. The arena at the capital was massive, a dome-shaped hall surrounded by white walls and marble flooring. The training grounds were mostly empty, probably since Nikandros—the perfectionist he was—had been keeping everyone busy; reassigning roles and overseeing reparations to the post-trial damages of the court. At the centre of the arena stood Pallas, his dark skin glimmering from physical exertion as he wielded a heavy Akielon sword, dismembering the straw-made sparring figure in front of him.

‘Preparing for another battle?’ Damen asked humorously. 

‘Exalted!’ Pallas exclaimed, walking over to his King enthusiastically, ‘I thought you were on bed rest.’ 

‘It is just a minor scratch, we’ve both had worse,’ Damen assured. Then he reached into his long robe and took out the stack of signed letters. Pallas’ eyes followed the papers in question as Damen briefly explained their content and those they concerned.

‘I need you to accompany a messenger and personally hand these letters to the Kyroi,’ Damen placed his hand on Pallas’ shoulder, ‘It is critical that they understand what has occurred in the capital and who now holds the throne. Your job is to ensure that the message is well received, and that they will attend the summit at the specified date.’ 

Exchanging a meaningful look with Damen, Pallas simply nodded, ‘I am glad you have recovered Exalted. I shall see to your order,' He payed obeisance and left the arena without another word. 

Damen also turned to leave but stopped at the sight of Nikandros making his way into the arena, taking long strides, making his sheathed sword clank at his side. Despite his mood Damen smiled at his lifelong friend and confidant; preparing himself for the worry-laden lecture that was coming. 

‘I don’t think you understand the term _bed rest_ Damianos. Clearly the Veretian physician had been wise to suggest tying you up,’ Nikandros stood in front of Damen, crossing his arms.

‘It is good to see you too old friend,’ Damen said, giving the Kyros a one-armed embrace. 

‘I could say the same to you, although it was foolishness on my part to expect you half asleep in your bed,’ Nikandros gave a small chuckle, ‘Care to join me for a bath? You should keep that wound clean as per the physician’s recommendation.’ 

Damen open his mouth to decline, thinking about a certain blond whose words and actions, that unguarded expression after Damen had told him to stop, still taunted his very soul; yet he also knew by now that when unpleasant words were exchanged, Laurent prefered a few hours of solitude with his own thoughts. Hence, Damen nodded his assent and the two walked together shoulder-to-shoulder towards the baths. 

After passing the throne room and the private chambers, Damen and Nikandros made their way down on a spiral set of stairs decorated with grey limestone. Reaching the baths Damen noticed several men and women attending to the springs, washing the floor and setting the oils. 

‘I thought I made my distaste for slavery clear,’ Damen said impatiently. 

‘They are no longer slaves, but free servants who are paid wages like regular soldiers. Their duties are not of a sexual nature, Exlated’ Nikandros explained, dismissing the servants and waiting until the doors were closed, ‘I could not simply retire all the slaves in the palace Damen. This is all they know, many of them do not even have a home to return to as they consider the royal household their family.’ 

‘And you gave them a job,’ Damen stated. It was just like Nikandros to ensure peace in the simplest ways. 

‘This is the best way to deal with the slaves for now. Instead of turning them away from their home, I took off their collars on your behalf and promised them a paid, respectful occupation without the elements of sexual submissiveness.’

‘You are right,’ Damen admitted after a pause, the events of the day taking their toll on his mind, ‘I still plan to officially abolish slavery across the land but I suppose one cannot be hasty with massive changes in tradition.’ 

Damen took a few steps forward and unpinned his chiton and robe, discarding them on a wooden divan; he saw Nikandros do the same and follow him into the springs. They placed their feet inside the hot water and slowly walked to the middle where it reached their chests. They washed quietly for a few minutes and Damen’s thoughts stirred towards Laurent once again, remembering flashes of the first time he had become privy to a more private side of the young man; jumping off rooftops and watching him dry his damp hair by the fireplace. He had no idea then, how tangled their relationship would get, how passionate. 

‘You surprised me.’

‘Pardon?’ Damon’s asked, being pulled back to the present. 

‘You took me by surprise. I was certain you were going to put up a fight and demand I tell the scribes to produce a new law that bans slavery across all provinces,’ Nikandros said amusingly, ‘I assume your time with the Veretian Prince has taught you a lesson or two about timely maneuvers.’ 

‘That remains as one of my primary goals, but now I understand that one requires certain…tactical schemes if he wishes to create change with no bloodshed,’ Damen admitted. Laurent would definitely have a cunning strategy in mind on how to broach the subject with their respective Council. 

‘If he has managed to teach you that, I guess he is not so bad after all,’ his companion teased.

Damen tried to smile but the humour was lost to him when all he could think about was the low opinion Laurent seemed to have of himself. _You’ve finally come to the unsurprising realization that I was not worth the trouble after all_. Damen shuddered.

‘He was abused wasn’t he?’

The question was so sudden that Damen’s entire body snapped around to face Nikandros, splashing water on the edges of the spring. 

‘That puts much of his behaviour into a new perspective.’

‘Nikandros’ Damen warned, his face going pale for the second time that day.

‘Rest easy my friend, I will take his secret to my grave if you wish it so.’

‘How—’

‘Did I find out? It was easy. After going over your account of what had occurred at Kingsmeet, I realized that the Regent, unable to use his sword to attack you on sacred ground, must have used his words to provoke you.’ 

Nikandros closed the distance between them and gently placed a hand on Damen’s bicep, 'You are fiercely protective, but you also would not have slaughtered half a dozen of the guards over mere insults. Later, I saw the Regent’s pet at the trial and noticed how young he was; couple that with rumours about the Prince’s frigidness and I came to the awful conclusion that he may have felt it just to flay the skin off your back as retribution for all the horrible things he had to endure as a boy.’ 

Damen let out a shaky breath. It was quite ironic, how Nikandros could piece the puzzle together after so little time spent with Laurent whereas Damen had been blind to it all along. He had wanted to believe—regardless of the extent of spite or treachery—that family was not capable of such horrid deeds. How wrong he had been.

‘Have you…’ Nikandros began carefully.

‘We briefly spoke about it this morning. He—’ Damen swallowed, ‘He thinks I don’t want him, now that I know of his past.’ 

‘Skepticism is part of my being Damen, yet even I have no doubt that your obsession with him has nothing to do with his habits in bed.’ The air had gotten thick with steam coming from the springs, surrounding them like a cocoon. 

‘You thought I wanted him because he’s blond,’ Damen pointed out.

‘Well, people change.’ They shared a meaningful look, after which Damen understood that sometime between the trial and the two days following his injury, Nikandros’ opinion of Laurent had had a fundamental shift. 

Nikandros picked up a clean towel coated with soap and walked around to gently scrub at Damen’s back. ’I still think he has a devious mind and a ruthless nature, but I have also realized that he truly, deeply cares for you.’ Damen nodded—slowly—in agreement. 

‘He was willing to give his life for you and the child. He has my respect for that.’ 

The mention of the child brought Damen’s other concerns to the forefront of his attention. 

‘Have you managed to find Jokaste’s whereabouts?’

‘I have sent my most trusted men in search for her but there has been no news as of yet,’ Nikandros rinsed the towel and added some oil to his palm, rubbing it on Damen’s shoulders, working on the knots there. 

In her final letter, Jokaste had claimed that the child was not Damen’s, but how could the woman be trusted after all her deception? Damen needed to see the child for himself; even if it was not his offspring, the royal blood running through his veins was undeniable. The future role of the mother and her child needed to be addressed as soon as they were located. 

‘I see. Thank you for all your efforts, truly you are a valuable companion.’ 

Damen disengaged himself and patted his friend’s arm for his assistance. They briefly spoke about Kastor’s funeral and Nikandros promised to see to the preparations. They would cremate his brother’s body in traditional Akielon fashion at dawn, after which Damen, as the new King, was to give his first public speech in the great hall. 

After getting dressed by the servants, Damen separated from Nikandros and headed towards the private chambers; expecting Laurent to be in the late Queen’s bedchambers, writing letters and plotting for the future, _Their future_. Once he reached the end of the hallway, Damen was surprised to see a young boy, ten or eleven years of age at most, enter Laurent’s chambers. 

He crossed the hallway and stood in front of the closed doors, looking up he saw Lazar standing guard. The man gave a small smile and bowed his head, understanding that Damen did not wish to make his presence known yet. 

It was not as if Damen intended to eavesdrop, but curiosity had won him over. From inside the room, he could hear Laurent’s footsteps approaching his guest.

‘I am aware that you are leaving for Fortaine tonight.’

‘That is correct, since my husband is now incarcerated for treason I must return to see to my fort Your Highness,’ It was Loyse, Councillor Guion’s wife who answered. 

‘I am forever indebted to you for your invaluable testimony at my trial,’ Laurent acknowledged, ‘I would like you to know that you are always welcome at Arles, whatever accommodations you need will be provided to ensure your comfort.’ 

‘I am thankful Your Highness.You have always been kind…even to Aimeric.’ 

Silence erupted. 

‘Lady Loyse, I must ask you for another favour, one that you are free to decline of course.’ Damen could hear the sound of the boy’s footsteps approaching.

‘His name is Chauncey. He was my uncle’s pet. It would mean a lot to me if you could take him to Fortaine and raise him as one of your own.’ Damen gasped. It was perfect, Laurent giving Loyse a son she had lost and in turn, ensuring that the boy who had suffered a similar fate as him would be in good hands. 

A sob was wrenched from the woman, then with a trembling voice she said: ‘He looks like Aimeric. He looks like my son.’

‘I understand if you wish to avoid painful memories—’

‘No, I would be honoured to look after this boy. It would be my salvation; a chance to make amends for turning a blind eye to your uncle’s crimes against my child. I would…I will treat Chauncey as if he were my own blood and flesh.’ 

More cries could be heard from Loyse; when they quieted, Laurent continued, ‘Then I bid you farewell Lady Loyse. As a token of goodwill, I would like you to accept this.’

Opening what sounded like a box, Loyse exclaimed ‘But there is too much gold, I cannot—’ 

‘Please. It is the least I can do,’ Laurent sounded sincere, if not a little doleful. 

‘Very well then, I thank you once again for your generosity Your Highness. I—I hope you find true happiness in life.’ With that, she approached the door. Lazar signalled for Damen to hide; walking towards the corner, Damen put his back to the wall. 

Loyse who was dressed in thick travelling clothes walked away while holding the boy’s small hand in her own; their footsteps echoing in the grand hallway. 

‘Exalted King Damianos is requesting an audience your highness.’ Damen turned around from the corner just in time to see Lazar wink at him with a wicked grin covering his face. 

‘Let him in.’ Damen hurriedly made his way back to the door and lightly punched Lazar’s chest. The latter swatted at him in response and opened the door. 

Walking in, Damen noticed the room had been slightly rearranged to accommodate for ornate Veretian taste. Laying eyes on Laurent for the first time since their morning together, Damen realized how much he had missed being in the other man’s vicinity. His delicate face and cool aura already affecting Damen’s heartbeat. 

‘Did you enjoy the baths?’ 

Damen tilted his head in question. ‘Lazar talks a lot,’ Laurent explained. 

‘I see, did you need me?’ 

‘I’m leaving for Arles tonight,’ He simply stated.

Damen’s chest hurt. He wanted to pull Laurent into his arms and hold on to him for as long as he was allowed. Instead, he tried to put his feelings into words. 

‘Laurent, about this morning—’

‘Attend me,’ It sounded like an order; Damen didn't care. He breached the distance between them and carefully placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders, steadying him. He could hear Laurent release a tiny breath as he began working on the laces of his maroon coloured jacket. The light from the candles accentuated Laurent’s features and gave his skin the illusion of warmth. Damen took Laurent’s right wrist in his hand to open the laces there, parting them with both thumbs and brushing against the sensitive skin, over his pulse as he felt it skip a beat. 

He stepped behind Laurent to take the jacket off, leaving him in a white undershirt that exposed the soft expanse of his neck, his transparent veins. Damen’s fingers tingled with the impulse to draw Laurent close and place his mouth at the juncture between jaw and neck; pressing possessive kisses there and whispering sweet nothings until Laurent comes apart in his arms. Damen stepped back, discarding the jacket on a nearby chair. 

‘Thank you,’ said Laurent, ’I wanted to be free of these laces for a few hours before I had to spend days in them travelling back to Vere.’

Damen’s gaze flitted back to Laurent’s wrist, noticing faint stripes of red marking the delicate skin.

Following Damen’s eyes, Laurent pulled his sleeves lower, 'I like the laces tight.’ 

‘You like constraining yourself,’ He knew of Laurent’s propensity for self deprivation. 

Laurent closed his eyes as if to mentally prepare himself for something difficult; when he opened them, the hazy, distant look from the balcony was back in place. Damen knew now that it was a sign of Laurent detaching himself from reality; allowing his mind to leave Damen and travel somewhere else, perhaps to a place where he felt safe. Damen hated that notion.

‘He came to me the very first time when I was at my worst. It had only been a few months since August and my father’s passing and I felt…devastated, alone.’ 

‘Laurent’ Damen said, alarmed, recognizing the line of speech for what it was.

‘Please Damen, let me finish,’ Laurent moved behind the chair where his Jacket was draped and grasped the backrest, his knuckles white, ‘He sat on my bed and wiped away my tears. He soothed me with words and promises of a better future; he touched me…innocently at first, then his advances became more lecherous. I—I let it happen, holding on to him as he fucked me open with his fingers, then with his cock.’

Damen felt his knees begin to shake, he took a step back and stumbled on the bed. His breaths coming in short gasps. 

Laurent continued with the same expository voice, ‘The second time it happened, I expected it. We were in his chambers and I was reading to him like I used to read to August; he sat my book aside and kissed my mouth, telling me how much he desired me and how he could not control himself…I gave in. I—I was weak and desperate for a warm touch, for empty reassurances so I spread my legs and let him take me.’ 

‘Laurent, _please_ ,’ Damen beseeched, his voice seething with agony. 

‘ _No_. You need to listen because I am not planning on having this conversation ever again,’ Laurent swallowed and went on, his voice more quiet, like a lover’s whisper, ‘After that, it happened regularly. He would come to my bed, or take me riding to my favourite part of the forest; taking me in his hands and making me cry out. I began to crave it, to crave his touch. I had never experienced what I was experiencing with him so I tried to win his attention in formal events, giving him sultry looks and wearing the most flattering garments.’

Damen let out a small, guttural noise from the back of his throat. Laurent ignored it. 

‘I was like his pet, a new toy except that no one knew our little secret. I revelled in that; I thought we were exclusive, eternal. I knelt before him in front of the window where we could be seen and I took his cock in my mouth…he was less gentle after that; flipping me over and using my body for his own release.’

Damen fisted the sheets and begged to the Gods above to end his misery. He could not stand listening to Laurent. His mind assaulting him with images that would never leave him even in his dreams. 

‘It happened many, many times over and for a while, it was tolerable. His newly rough tendencies did not bother me, as long as I could curl up to him afterwards and tell him a story. When I knelt for him again, he began presenting me with gifts; little pieces of jewelry that would decorate my otherwise simple attire. He would put bracelets around my wrists as I used my hands to pleasure him and he made me pierce my ears so he could mark his possession.’ 

Damen shook his head. There were no words…No acts of consolation that could undo what had been done. He was helpless where Laurant had come out strong.

‘I began to fall for him, in my own twisted way. However, now that I look back on it I know that it was never love. It was dependency, it was desperation but not love. Years went by and I reached my sixteenth birthday. I was too old for him and his fleeting attentions were signs of that. I tried to deny it, to make excuses for him in my head. I tried seducing him, drawing him into my bed with my intelligence, my helpfulness…but it was to no avail.’ 

‘You—you were just a _boy_. You didn’t deserve what happened to you!’ Damen sobbed, voice trembling with unshed tears. 

Laurent’s eyes softened in sympathy; for whom it was unclear, ‘He never touched me again once I turned seventeen and he took other boys to his bed. He payed little attention to me and his duties as acting Regent often drove him away from the capital.’ 

Laurent pushed a loose strand of hair away from his face and gave a humourless laugh, ‘It’s funny how I only became interested in politics and matters of the state out of spite for my uncle. I wanted to both impress and challenge him with my competence. I thought—I thought if I was as good as my brother in kingship I could gain his approval. I guess I got my answer when he tried to assassinate me by poisoning my horse, by attacking me in my room, forcing me to the borders…by using you against me.’ Damen closed his eyes, blocking out the world that had been so cruel to someone as magnificent, as precious and as capable as Laurent. 

‘I think a part of me lead Aimeric to his death out of jealousy. I tried to redeem myself today by saving another one of his pets, but I could remember the younger version of myself waiting for him from dawn to dusk, thinking he had business out of the city. Turns out while I was wasting away in my room, my uncle was fucking another poor, mislead child,’ Laurent spat out, his lips pressed together tightly.

He fixed his gaze on Damen and began walking towards the bed, ‘I told you all of this, not to blame you, or to punish you for my own predicament; this is not an act of revenge but an act of mercy.’

Damen frowned,‘I don’t—'

‘Now that you know the full story, you are free to choose. You can have me as a lover, as someone who shares your bed and with whom you are intimate, or just as a confidant, an ally in war and peace.’

‘That is ridiculous,’ Damen could not believe the man was giving him an option, as if one ever existed after meeting Laurent. 

‘Don’t give me an answer now, think about it and tell me after my coronation,’ Laurent sounded exhausted, as if the words were sapping the energy out of him, ‘You should know that your decision will not change anything, I would still be your friend—’

‘ _Friend_? Is that what we are?’ Damen asked farcically, remembering the same question thrown at him on the battlements at Ravenel. 

‘I am giving you the opportunity to choose a better partner,’ Laurent said quietly, his shoulders tense and his posture on guard, as if wanting to flee, ‘You can have anyone you want, why would you settle for less?’

‘ _Less_?’ Damen had had enough of Laurent’s words and accusations. He rose from the bed and angrily closed the gap between their bodies, standing chest to chest with Laurent, looking down at him with a determination that made the latter flinch. _Good_ Damen thought. His fists clenching painfully at his sides. ‘When I told you this morning that you _broke me_ , I wasn’t spilling meaningless poetry. When I chose you over my kingdom, when I risked my life to save you or to die by your side, I wasn’t trying to have my name etched in history.’ Laurent’s eyes widened and he took a step back that Damen matched with one placed forward. ‘I have meant every word I’ve ever said to you Laurent. Your—your past does _not_ matter, what that _filthy animal_ did to you has only made you stronger, more brilliant in my eyes.’ 

‘Damen—’

‘No!’ Damen yelled; he had an insane impulse to take Laurent’s arms in his hands and shake some sense into him. He restrained himself. 

‘I am standing here, in this moment, and I am telling you that I don’t have a choice because I don’t need one. All I need from you is a simple answer, can you give me that?’ 

Laurent paused, then nodded solemnly, his jaw taut, his expression uneasy. 

‘When you took me in your mouth on the balcony, were you thinking about your uncle?’ Damen posed the question carefully, tenderly, as if the answer could tip the balance of the universe. 

Laurent’s mouth opened as he inhaled sharply, his expression changed several times from angry to disappointed to irritated and finally, to an unnatural calm, ‘No Damen, I was thinking about you, about pleasing you, about how much I have begun to depend on you and how you have teared down my defences one after another.’ 

‘But the look in your eyes—’

‘Was a learned reflex from my time with my uncle. The act of taking a man’s cock in my mouth, of kneeling before him and letting myself be so vulnerable is something my body has learned to resist. I wasn’t fighting an imaginary uncle-figure, nor was I detaching myself from you. I was having an internal battle with myself against my twisted, self-reserving instincts,’ Laurent explained impatiently, as if he was talking to a particularly slow child. 

Damen let out a relived breath. He hung his head to compose himself, fixing his eyes to the floor before quietly stating: ‘You didn’t have to.’

‘But I wanted to. I wanted you to feel what you make me feel Damianos.’ The words sounded exquisite coming from Laurent. 

‘I only want you in ways you would allow me to,’ Damen assured the other man; feeling as though it was necessary to vocalize his intentions in case they were misread. 

For a moment Laurent didn’t say anything. He just stared at Damen the way he once did when their trust had been fragile and their bond untested. Damen recognized that look as that of awe and admiration; the ones he used to receive when his actions contradicted Laurent’s perception of him. It was impossible for Laurent to come any closer, but he did. It was close enough for Damen to feel his breath on his skin, the candlelight warming his pristine skin, giving it a more benign tone. Laurent placed his mouth against Damen’s ear—where he shivered involuntarily—and whispered, ‘You can have me, all of me.’ 

With his heart racing, Damen raised his hand to cup Laurent’s face, to recite sonnets to him if that would convince Laurent of his devotion to him. Damen’s hand was interrupted midway at the sound of a knock on the door, followed by: ‘Your highness, the calvary is ready to escort you to the port.’ 

Ignoring the announcement, Damen reached for Laurent’s face and pulled it in for a desperate, long-awaited kiss. Laurent opened to him shamelessly and gave a small moan; tangling his fingers in Damen’s hair. He was standing on his tiptoes, Damen noticed, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards before putting his palms on Laurent’s waist, yanking him forward and drinking his lips in with a burning hunger that had Laurent’s body shaking beneath his fingers, his otherwise occupied mouth making small noises as he swallowed Damen’s tongue and dug his nails into his broad shoulders. They broke away just long enough to catch their breath before diving back in, nibbling at each other’s lips while Damen cupped the back of Laurent’s head; fingers sliding into golden hair, messing it. 

‘Your highness? Can you hear me?’ The inquiry came once again from outside the door. 

Laurent let out a sweet sound of pleasure and dragged his palm over Damen’s back; Damen’s arms trembling with how tightly he was embracing his lover. They stumbled towards the desk, pushing the materials aside as Damen lifted Laurent slightly, placing him on the wooden surface and pressing himself between Laurent’s parted knees. 

‘Ah…’ An involuntary sound was wretched from Laurent’s kiss-swollen mouth, causing the door to fly open and bringing a very concerned Jord—with his sword partially out of its sheath—to view.

Gaping at the sight of a very flustered Damen and an incredibly annoyed Laurent before him, Jord stammered apologies; when those were left unanswered, he shifted from one foot to another, trying but failing to divert his gaze. Behind him, Damen could see Lazar’s shoulders shaking in uncontrollable laughter.

Damen turned back to face Laurent whose brows had knitted into a frown. ‘I need to change my guards.’

Damen, who had been flustered and irritated at the intrusion, threw his head back and laughed, further alarming an awkward Jord who was standing—uncomfortably— in the middle of the room. 

‘I apologize once again for interrupting your… business, but His Royal Highness needs to depart—’

‘Give us a minute Jord,’ Damen ordered and Jord happily obliged, scurrying out of the room without looking back. 

‘I don’t suppose I can behead him for leaving me sexually frustrated.’

This time, it was Laurent who laughed. Then, ‘You need to attend me again before Jord sends the entire cavalry to our door.’

Damen nodded with a smile and stepped back to retrieve Laurent’s jacket, pulling at the laces and tightening them to Laurent’s liking, but not before placing a chaste kiss at the back of Laurent’s wrist, quickening his pulse. 

‘Do you want me to accompany you to the port?’ Damen asked, eager to spend more time with Laurent. 

‘And leave the palace for Nikandros and Lazar? I don’t think so.’

‘Lazar is staying?’

‘We’re not the only ones preoccupied here Damen,’ Laurent chastised playfully, ‘I will see you at my coronation in a week’s time. Don’t be late.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Damen teased, brushing through Laurent’s hair, fixing it in place. 

There was an interval of looking during which Damen tried to refrain from staring at Laurent like a fool. Lost in his thoughts, he felt Laurent’s lips press briefly at the corner of his mouth before pulling away completely, smiling that genuine smile he sometimes had when he was coming awake beside Damen after a particularly languorous love making. The kiss had lasted but a second, but Damen thought it a sweet gesture coming from the scrupulous man. He watched Laurent prepare to leave from outside the window, riding on a white horse after brushing its mane and patting its flank. Damen resisted the urge to chase after him, kissing him all over and making him his. That would have to wait for another week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your wonderful comments & Kudos! They encourage me to continue.

It was indeed a grand spectacle; the shores of Atros illuminated with hundreds of candle-bearers who wore white ceremonial garbs and were steadily marching towards the dock. Kastor’s body was placed on a floating pyre, dressed in a prince’s formal attire; the vermillion coated fur a striking contrast to his white and gold embroidered toga. Damen stood at the centre of the dock, alongside him were Nikandros, and Makedon who had traveled in great haste from the West to attend the royal funeral, as well as to report on the current state of affairs in Sicyon. 

Before parting Laurent had briefly spoke of his plans to promote Enguerran from captaincy to lordship. It had sounded ridiculous to Damen until Laurent had explained the need for a strong, reliable leader to protect the forts at Ravenel; with the late Lord Touars’ son Thevenin being too young to handle matters of the state, Enguerran who had once been Captain to Ravenel’s troops seemed to be the best candidate. Hence in this manner, Jord had humbly advanced to his former rank as Laurent’s Captain. Damen supposed it was a good opportunity for the man to slither back into Laurent’s good graces. 

When all the candle-bearers surrounded the dock, Damen was handed the ekthanos; a long, wooden arrow covered in a melange of combustible liquids. Makedon passed him the golden bow with both hands—a sign of respect—and made his way back to the head of the dock, standing beside the candle-bearers while holding a torch. Nikandros remained at Damen’s side, lighting the ekthanos as Damen placed it on the bow and aimed; waiting for the white-clad crowd to start the ritualistic chants. Whispering a small prayer of his own for the brother he had lost, Damen took his shot; setting the pyre aflame with his brother at the centre of it. Three virgin maidens—handpicked by the court’s head shaman to serve at the funeral—took each side of the wooden raft and set it afloat. 

The ceremony lasted until the break of dawn, with the candle bearers making a long walk aside the shores, releasing their candles into the water as it briefly illuminated before sinking in. Damen sat on his throne placed before the dock and watched the flames turn his brother’s body into ash. Everyone was served wine that night, and the sombre atmosphere slowly turned into one of quiet camaraderie. 

Later, Damen sat on a table with Nikandros, Makedon, and Lazar who did not seem to notice the curious stares directed his way. 

‘Tell me again why you didn’t leave with the Prince?’ Nikandros asked Lazar; setting his cup down. 

‘Pallas is a fine rider.’ Damen choked on his wine. ‘On a horse,’ Lazar added with an amused grin.

‘I am rather disappointed that the Veretian Prince had to leave quite so soon. I would’ve given him some griva as a parting gift,’ Makedon grumbled. It seemed as though nobody could escape Laurent’s dangerous charms unscathed. 

‘We will be seeing him often,’ Nikandros assured, his tone absent of the bitterness it once held when referring to the blond. 

Damen took a long swing of his own wine, reminiscing a time when Kastor had been pleasant, genuine in the manner with which he interacted with his younger brother; he had held a large cup in front of Damen’s scrunched up face and had ruffled his hair, telling him to drink the foul liquid in one shot. He had regretted it once Damen had accidentally spat in his face. 

‘Well I sure hope so, he’s Veretian but he holds his drink like an Akielon—’

‘Would you like to be my Captain Makedon?’ Damen proposed, startling the man in question. 

‘Beg your pardon Exalted?’

‘If you accept, you will remain entitled to your own army in the North, while commanding my men in the capital. However instead of answering to Nikandros, you answer directly to me.’ 

He had discussed the matter with Nikandros shortly after Laurent’s departure. With his friend having to return to Delpha to officially give up his position as Kyros, Damen’s army at Ios would be left sans captain. Hence, taking a page from Laurent’s book, Damen decided to put his men into good use; despite their differences in the past, Makedon was a capable warrior most suitable for this role. 

‘You’re stealing his Captain?’ Lazar teased. 

After locking eyes with his former commander, during which Nikandros silently conveyed his blessing, the well-endowed general carefully stood up and tapped his right fist over his heart; pledging his fealty, ‘It is a great honour to be entrusted with your troops Exalted, I will do all that is in my power to bring glory to Akielos.’ 

‘The honour is mine Captain,’ Damen smiled and refilled everyone’s cups, ‘I didn’t bring your badge of office to mark the occasion; worrying you might drop it in your cup.’ Makedon who was in a jovial mood laughed and brought his drink to Damen’s as they toasted to the future of their kingdom. 

Damen filled himself with wine until his vision began to swim and he could no longer see the remains of his brother burning on the pyre; he patted his comrades on the back and buried his anger at the monster whose existence had brought so much pain to the young man his heart beat for. He couldn’t chase after ghosts no more than he could bring back the cremated body before him and demand to be compensated for his broken trust. 

The sun was bright in the royal gardens where Damen sat, primed and dressed to catch the attention of thousands who were gathering in the great hall to see—for the first time in months— the true King of Akielos, alive and healthy before their eyes. He was wearing a white chiton, embellished with striking golden patterns; his tyrian purple cloak heavy on his shoulders as he raised his head to look at the clear sky, breathing in the faint smell of fresh soil and sea salt. _Laurent would have loved the fields here_ , Damen thought; he could ride his horse all the way up to the hills and catch a glimpse of everything Damen’s homeland had to offer. He had promised to take Laurent to his mother’s gardens when the war was over; the realization that it would be long before they could truly rest alongside each other brought upon Damen’s shoulders a weight that had nothing to do with his ostentatious attire. 

At the guard’s signal, Damen stood up and made his way up the spiral stairs; not stopping until he reached the very top where the distinct voices of his people could be heard. He looked at Nikandros who awaited him by the closed curtains, the two exchanged a comfortable look as the curtains were pulled open at his friend’s signal, bringing Damen to the view of thousands of Akielon commoners. The dais was placed on a high platform overlooking the great hall, a massive arena surrounded by long walls connected to the entrance gates. The great hall had always been used as a rendezvous point among the King and his subjects; public speeches were often conducted within that enclosure. People pointed at Damen while others gaped, whispering among themselves and swaying with excitement. 

Raising his hand in a gesture for silence, the entire hall fell quiet. Damen took a deep breath and began addressing the crowd: ‘Noble people of Akielos, my brothers and sisters, today you are gathered here to receive my formal greetings as the new King and ruler of this glorious nation,’ Damen’s voice rippled through the masses, drawing them in.

’As many of you know, our brother Kastor stripped me of my title and sent me to our neighbour country as a slave for the Prince of Vere.’ His people gasped and groaned in distaste, some even slandered Laurent’s name and vowed retribution.

Damen swiftly continued, ‘Expecting to be met with hostility and treated maliciously during my captivity, I was instead freed and given a rank among the Prince’s men. He was able to look past the tainted history of our kingdoms and we forged an alliance in order to unitedly confront the Regent, the Prince’s usurper uncle who had been colluding with my brother for the sake of power and undeserved status.’ Silence erupted once again. 

‘Our coalition brought havoc upon our mutual enemies, and the two offenders were brought to justice with minimum damage to our estates.’ The whispers had increased in intensity, some shook their head in doubt, others nodded their approval; no curses were directed at Laurent.

‘I would like you to consider Vere as a brother nation to Akielos, for without their help, your King would have suffered a similar fate as the great Theomedes; all in the name of infelicitous greed.’ The implications were clear. Kastor had killed the King and conspired with the Regent in order to shift the reins of authority to his favour. This time, it was his brother’s name the men execrated. 

‘They bound me and held me captive, believing that it would break my spirit.’ Damen moved closer to the edge of the platform, ‘They were wrong.’ The crowd broke into cheers, chanting their king’s name and hitting the air with their fists. Damen’s thunderous voice cut through the commotion, ‘Moving forward, I will pass new laws that would protect the innocent and prohibit the corrupt from misusing their power. I ask you to put your trust in me for I shall see to it that Akielos becomes free of captivity, and free of shackles,’ Damen paused for his words to be assimilated. 

‘I will not disappoint you, my dear friends.’ A long interval of vigorous clapping followed; everyone, including children were cheering, shouting words of pride and glory. Damen concluded his speech and left the platform, disappearing behind the curtains. 

Later, when the cheers had quieted and the men began to make their way back to their respective towns, Damen went to seek out Pallas in the common room; having been given word of the soldier’s return, he was eager to hear results. 

‘I’ve missed you.’ Damen stopped in his tracks as he heard Lazar’s voice.

‘You haven’t missed me…just my touch,’ Pallas replied softly. 

‘Is there a difference?’

Damen cleared his throat and made his presence known. Pallas teared his gaze away from Lazar and payed obeisance to his king, ‘Exalted, I have returned while bearing good news.’

‘Everything went well I assume?’

‘Yes, I relayed your message to the Kyroi and was met with nothing short of warm regards.’ 

‘Thank you Pallas,’ Damen nodded, turning to look at Lazar, ’Prepare to ride with Makedon. We leave for the Prince’s coronation.’ 

Honouring his vow, Makedon had seen to it that the cavalry was prepared and ready for departure within a few hours time. Whether the Captain’s enthusiasm was out of a newfound sense of responsibility, or from the prospect of encountering a certain blond, Damen was unsure. His own heart beat with anticipation of reuniting with the man whose absence he felt like an aching chasm. Settling on his horse, Damen rode south towards the docks of Atros alongside Pallas, Lydos, Lazar, and Nikandros who would be joining them halfway before travelling back to Delpha. 

The journey was long and tedious; the men transitioning from bouts of sea sickness, to bouts of carousing. Damen bid farewell to his cherished companion and they agreed to rendezvous at Kingsmeet in four days time. Docking at the shores of Marches, Damen and his troops rode to Arles, stopping only a handful of times for replenishment and rest. With every step, Damen could feel himself closing in on his target; he would hold Laurent’s head in his hands and take his lips. _No_ Damen thought, he would be gentle, pressing soft kisses along the expanse of Laurent’s sensitive neck as he felt the soft motion of the latter’s hips grinding against him in silent want. He dreamed of the two of them laying on their backs underneath a blanket of stars. With Laurent naming the constellations and their meanings while Damen stared at his beloved’s face, drinking him in with his eyes. 

They reached Arles at the break of dawn; expecting to be greeted by Laurent in person, Damen was mildly surprised to see dozens of servants awaiting the troops at the gates, welcoming them to Vere and relieving them of the carriages and heavy loads. Makedon briefly thanked them for their hospitality and inquired about the resting lounges. A herald stepped forward and bowed to Damen respectfully, ‘The Prince welcomes you to Arles. Unfortunately he is being serviced at the moment and is not able to make a personal reacquaintance.’ 

‘Serviced?’ The term had many different connotations. 

‘He is being prepared for the coronation. I am to take you to his quarters, Exalted.’ He then motioned Damen to follow him as he made his way towards the private chambers, Damen’s back briefly stung as they walked past the arena in which Laurent had ordered him flogged. Much had changed since then, except for the palace that had reserved it’s opulent air and extraordinary appearance; it’s walls covered in tapestry and its floors gleaming with carved stones. 

Laurent’s chambers were not moved after the Regent’s death. Instead, accommodations were made to refashion the space to fit a King’s status; two guards were posted at a large cyan coloured door with golden designs. Announcing Damen’s presence, the herald waited until he was granted entrance, then he bowed and made his way back to the gates, leaving Damen to step inside the room. 

Nothing could prepare him for the sight he now beheld; Laurent was seated—completely naked—inside a wooden bath tub, his hair silky and his skin glowing from the steam. Four male servants were attending him, rubbing what appeared to be scented oils over his hands and arms, applying balm over his chest. The surge of jealousy that Damen felt at the servants’ ministrations was untameable; he locked eyes with Laurent who visibly inhaled, as if the sight of Damen had overwhelmed him. 

‘Leave us,’ Laurent ordered, one of the servants opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the blond’s icy glare.

Once alone in the room, Damen breathed in a few times to calm his jealousy-induced anger. His possessive nature threatening to take control of his actions.  


‘It is an ironclad tradition for a prince to be pampered prior to his coronation,’ Laurent explained, aware of the look in Damen’s eyes. 

Damen’s eyes raked Laurent’s face, not daring to travel further down to where the water concealed sharp hips and soft thighs. 

‘Say something,’ Laurent whispered.

Damen took four firm steps towards the tub and with an abrupt motion, he took Laurent’s shoulders in his hands and pulled up; gathering the body in his arms. The water soaked through Damen’s clothes and made him shiver as Laurent’s startled breath brushed against his ear; his smooth hair rubbing against Damen’s cheeks. 

Laurent’s voice quivered as his hands slowly circled Damen’s back, pulling him to his body, ‘I have missed you too.’ 

Damen’s laugh was a deep rumble, he closed his eyes as he allowed himself to feel the man in his arms, the lines of his muscular back, his delicate neck and defined shoulders. ‘That is too inadequate a word for what I am feeling,’ Damen admitted, tightening his hold. 

Laurent’s body reacted, to the words or to the firm grasp Damen was unsure; his palms dragged against Laurent’s damp skin in reverence, eliciting small moans of pleasure from the blond. ‘You can,’ Laurent gasped, making his consent explicit. 

Damen did not need to be asked twice, he dug his fingers into wet skin, his right hand slid over Laurent’s back and traveled further down; his fingers finding purchase in plump flesh, gripping it possessively. ‘They touched you,’ Damen said; the image of the servants laying hands on Laurent clouded his mind, taking over his senses. He grabbed the blond’s hips and yanked him forward, causing Laurent’s arousal to hit his clothed cock. Damen hummed in satisfaction. 

‘I do not care for their touch,’ Laurent murmured, his arms hooked around Damen’s shoulders, ‘I only—oh.’ Damen’s finger had dug deeper and was grazing the sensitive skin of his perineum, circling his entrance; Damen’s hands shook with want before he withdrew them completely from the area, gripping Laurent’s shoulders once again. ‘I need to see you,’ Damen asked quietly. 

‘You have seen me,’ Laurent said amusingly, ‘there's not much else to look at.’ 

‘Your face,’ Damen said as his hands cupped the back of Laurent’s head; he pulled away just enough to be able to look at Laurent; noticing the fevered skin and the heavy-lidded eyes. 

‘Kiss me.’

Damen complied, attacking Laurent’s lips with insatiable hunger, licking at his mouth and prying it open with his tongue. He drank from the full lips, bitting and then soothing the area. Their breaths mingled and Laurent’s palms dragged over Damen’s chest softly, feeling the muscles there. 

‘It’s been too long,’ Laurent admitted, his voice blissed and shaking with the intensity of their actions, ‘I—I thought of you.’

‘In what way?’ Damen asked, wanting to hear that smooth voice, as if it was glazed with honey. 

‘Every way,’ He whispered; gently rubbing his cheek to Damen’s while still standing in the tub, ‘I woke up everyday wishing you were here to hold me.’ 

Damen gasped at the confession; insanely private, Laurent did not easily admit to his affections. He brought his head down and began lapping at Laurent’s neck, licking the water droplets away. He circled Laurent’s waist and bent his knees, dragging his open mouth over the velvet-like chest, sucking on the hard nipples. 

‘ _yes_ ,’ Laurent hummed, running his fingers through Damen’s hair; feeling the texture beneath his palm. 

Damen who was tweaking Laurent’s delicate buds with his thumb, sucked in a small patch of skin on Laurent’s neck and held it in his mouth before letting go; watching a bruise-like mark appear in its stead. 

‘I see you enjoy marking your possession,’ Laurent said observantly.

Damen’s heart skipped a beat. He felt giddy with joy. ‘Are you saying that you are mine?’ 

Laurent flushed hard, realizing the meaning behind his words, he closed his eyes and let out a frustrated groan. 

‘I am yours,’ Damen said plainly, honestly. That had been the case long before Laurent had allowed him in his bed. 

‘I want you to take me, right now,’ Laurent’s words were like poison to Damen’s ear; obliterating his higher faculties. 

‘Your newly pampered skin will not be as fresh once I am done,’ Damen warned, biting slightly at the mark on Laurent’s neck.

‘I’ll looked like I have been fucked and everyone will be staring at me.’ Laurent sure knew how to please the dominant streak in Damen. 

Damen held on to Laurent’s hip again as his free hand searched for one of the oils nearby and opened the lid; drenching his fingers in the slick substance.

Nibbling at his mouth, he parted Laurent’s rear and pressed one finger at his entrance, circling it, teasing the ring of flesh. Laurent’s body was shivering in his arms; Damen suddenly realized that Laurent was still wet from the bath, he opened his mouth to suggest relocating to the bed but was cut off when Laurent began pushing back slightly against his finger, letting out a barely audible sound of pleasure. 

‘Laurent you’re freezing,’ Damen whispered against his ear.

‘It’s not from the cold, I—’ Laurent huffed, ‘I want you.’ 

Damen groaned and buried his face in Laurent’s hair, his finger slowly pushed into the heated entrance; Laurent gave a small moan and gripped his shoulders tighter, relaxing his muscles, allowing Damen’s finger to slide in all the way to his knuckle. 

They were both fully aroused, their cocks brushing against each other. Laurent’s member was leaking at the tip, staining Damen’s riding attire. Sliding his finger in and out, Damen’s breathing began to quicken, his own arousal forgotten as he looked at Laurent’s expression, looking for any signs of discomfort. Laurent’s arms were circled around Damen’s neck, their foreheads pressing against each other as they kissed. 

‘Deeper,’ Laurent demanded. Damen ran his free hand from the curve of Laurent’s back to his thigh, picking it up and holding it against his hip. Balancing himself on one leg—with the other pressed against Damen’s side—Laurent arched his back, forcing a second finger into his oiled opening; Damen curled his fingers at the bold movement; accidentally brushing against a sensitive spot inside Laurent, evoking a brief cry from the blond who tried to steady himself.

‘ _Damen_ ,’ Laurent called out desperately, Damen who was lost in the his own sensations and the feel of Laurent’s tight entrance against his fingers, added a third finger and began thrusting his hand back and forth in a rapid pace, swaying Laurent’s body accordingly and making his cock brush against his stomach.

‘You feel amazing, I can’t—‘ Damen was at a loss for words. Laurent grabbed Damen’s hand that was holding his raised leg, and placed it on his swollen cock. ‘Touch me,’ Laurent demanded, his voice almost shy. 

Damen grabbed the member and slid his thumb over the sensitive slit; making Laurent’s thighs quiver in anticipation. With three fingers moving in and out of his rear, and a hand massaging his cock, Laurent threw his head back slightly and closed his eyes; surrounding his body to the hands encompassing him in every way. Damen pulled back the foreskin and squeezed the shaft, setting a rhythm that matched the pace of his fingers. Being touched in both areas, Laurent could only bury his face in Damen’s neck and take it; his kiss-swollen lips slightly moist from pleasure. 

Damen could not believe this was happening, him running his hands all over the soon-to-be King of Vere as if the mind that possessed the body had given him free rein; arching his back and tilting his head in a manner that implied temporary submission for Damen to please his body and take his own pleasure; being so entangled with each other now, it was impossible to think that they had once been enemies. Damen closed his hand into a fist and dragged it along the aroused length, squeezing more white liquid out of Laurent who dug his fingernails into his scalp and lightly bit at his neck.

‘I’m—I’m _close_ .’ Laurent warned, pulling Damen closer as Damen curled his fingers further into the gaping entrance and hit the sensitive bundle of nerves repeatedly. Laurent cried out and after a few deep thrusts, he relieved himself; beads of come spurting out of his arousal, making the ring of muscles at his back to contract around Damen’s fingers, still buried deep within him. 

Coming back to his senses, Damen pressed tender kisses at the corner of Laurent’s mouth before gently pulling out, Laurent sighed at the loss and melted into Demen’s body while shivering. This time, Damen knew the quivers were indeed from the cold. 

Taking off the lion pin on his shoulder, Damen slid out of his cloak and placed it—attentively—over Laurent’s bare shoulders, covering his body. He held out a hand for Laurent to take in order to step out of the tub, which he accepted and didn’t let go once his feet touched the floor. 

Damen drew Laurent in for a second hug, warming the body in his arms by rubbing his back gently. He whispered in Laurent’s ear: ‘I can’t get enough of you.’

‘You are still roused, let me take care of you,’ Laurent moved his hand to touch the subject in question. Damen gasped and pulled Laurent’s hand back, ‘I need to be inside you.’

‘Did you hear me protest?’

‘We don’t have much time.’

‘Enough for Jord to find you on top of me, your cock buried deep inside me.’

Damen shuddered at the provocative words; Laurent’s mouth was his best asset and Damen’s worst enemy. ‘Do you want that?’

‘I don’t mind giving him a shock. I still haven’t forgiven him for what happened at Ravenel.’ 

‘No, I mean, do you want me?’ Damen asked hopefully.

Raising a fine eyebrow, Laurent said, ‘I thought our activity earlier was sufficient proof.’

‘You said you thought about me.’

‘I did.’ Laurent nodded slowly.

‘And?’

‘Do you always angle for an earful of talk?’

‘From you yes,’ said Damen with a smile gracing his lips; his voice utterly charmed. 

There was a pause, then Laurent carefully, almost hesitantly tilted his head and placed it against Damen’s chest. ‘I thought about your arms and how you used them to throw a sword at one of your countrymen to save me, about your back as it faced me in that cramped Vaskian tent under the lamplight; displaying white streaks to my regret-filled eyes. I also thought about your mouth, as you used it to give me valuable advice, and console me in times of distress; the same mouth who made love to my body and kissed me so tenderly.’ During his speech, Damen had slid his fingers into Laurent’s silky hair and was brushing it thoughtlessly; his mind drifting through time and pinpointing to the aforementioned memories. Damen’s heart was fluttering, his stomach filled with a sensation he only felt when Laurent was in his vicinity. 

‘You really are dangerous. No one can escape your charms unscathed can they?’

‘My charms? You mean what I use to lure my enemies closer to my sword,’ Laurent teased. 

There was a knock and a servant called out for Laurent from the other side of the door: ‘Your Royal Highness, we need to finish bathing you so that the attendants can bring in your garbs; the coronation is only two hours away.’

Damen turned to look at Laurent, his tone serious, ’So what is it going to be? Are you going to walk out there dressed like royalty or look like you’ve been fucked by royalty?’ 

Laurent shot him a piercing glare, then with a twinkle in his eyes he said, ‘I can do both.’ 

Damen had no doubt that Laurent would follow through with that plan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I know it has been a long wait but I was busy with finals and then I lost my muse for a few weeks. I can confidently say that I am back on track and motivated to update every 1-2 weeks & this is all thanks to those you commented and left kudos! You have no idea how much comments encourage me so let me know what you think :*

Indeed, time was not on their side. Damen was beginning to notice a pattern in the stolen moments of quiet he shared with Laurent: first, it was few and far between; second, it was always interrupted by an irritating reminder of reality. This time, reality took the form of Laurent’s five servants who—with the utmost caution—sidestepped a fatigued and sexually frustrated Damen into their soon-to-be-King’s chambers while largely ignoring the imposing aura that was being directed their way. 

Laurent who had traded Damen’s cloak with a turquoise robe of his own, was standing nonchalantly beside the bath tub; his eyes searching Damen’s and smiling at whatever he detected in them. 

Damen simply wanted more time. 

‘Do you wish to observe the bathing ritual?’ asked Laurent with a fine arched brow. 

‘I thought that step of the process had come to a finish,’ Damen pointed out, his eyes following the servants’ activities as they hurriedly set new vials of oil and soap on the table. 

‘It would have, had you not soiled the water.’ 

‘I think I soiled more than just the water.’ Damen rumbled while Laurent did his best to look unimpressed. 

Two of the servants approached Laurent from the back to take off his robe but before their hands could touch Laurent’s shoulders, the Veretian’s finger signalled them to a halt.

‘I am sure you’ve had a long journey King Damianos, rest assured that your men are fed and properly seen to; my guards at the door will show you to your chambers.’

It was astounding how Laurent’s voice could sound so raw and intimate at one point, yet so cool and impersonal at another. Damen knew it was not wise to create unnecessary rumours while their individual political standings were novel and untested. Though the intimate nature of their alliance had been revealed before the Veretian council in Akielos, Damen suspected that Laurent—with his overly complicated mind—had already figured out the exact length of time during which their relationship had to be kept behind closed doors and away from prying eyes; if Damen knew the blond like he believed he did, it would be no sooner than the moment he was coronated as King. Even then, they had to be cautious of who was watching them interact. To Damen’s understanding, Vere was a different entity than Akielos and while the King’s private engagements with the neighbouring ruler was not a primary concern for the Akielon court at large, the Veretians prided themselves in their intrusive proclivities as it had been an essential tool in keeping their former kings away from unwed women and celibate men alike. 

It was all too complicated and unnecessarily binding. Damen had an insane urge to throw Laurent over his shoulder and ride back towards the high cliffs of Ios; coronations and political maneuvers be damned. Instead, Damen accepted Laurent’s course of action. 

‘I thank you for your hospitality.’ Damen inclined his head and left the chambers, noticing how Laurent only signalled the servants to return to their task of undressing him when he was certain of Damen’s departure. 

 

The chamber he had been assigned was nothing short of extravagant; a room truly befitting his status with its royal blue and gold laden tapestries and opulent furnishing. At the centre, the bed stood out from the crowded ambiance in its simplicity and wooden carvings; it was decorated with nothing but thick golden sheets made of silk and fine animal fur. A replica of his—their bed in Ios. 

It came to Damen’s attention that it must have been placed there as per Laurent’s orders. It was sweet and uncharacteristically sentimental of the man to pay homage to anything that did not further his plots. It spread something warm and reassuring in Damen that momentarily soothed the bitterness he felt towards their situation. 

He bathed and prepared in quiet; turning down the servants’ offer to wash his back. He dressed in a blood red coat (also courtesy of Laurent), made of suede over a waistcoat decorated with golden buttons. It was comfortable enough for Damen to be able to resist ripping it off his body for the duration of the crowning, which he was grateful for. 

Sitting on the bed, Damen contemplated paying a visit to his companions in the guest lounges, but decided against it when he remembered Pallas and Lazars’ conversation in Ios. _You haven’t missed me, just my touch_ Pallas had said, and Lazar’s boisterous voice had sounded sincere: _Is there a difference?_ Indeed during the past few days of being apart, Damen had felt Laurent’s absence like a festering wound; yet he was confident that if Laurent’s words were the only thing he could have in this lifetime, he would still be happy if not completely satisfied. 

A knock on the door pulled Damen from his thoughts and he stood up as a guard came in to escort him to the grand hall for the ceremony. 

Following the rest of the guests downstairs, Damen felt the gaze of a few nobles from Patras on his back, the bolder ones didn't even bother waiting for Damen to pass, they simply gaped at him in recognition before schooling their expressions and bowing in respect. Damen made a mental note to send a letter to Torgeir, the Patran King to reaffirm their status as allies. 

Of course there were also those who whispered among themselves about the infamous young King who had—quite literally—thrown away his crown and country in service of the Veretian Prince. 

To Damen’s amusement, aside from a few curious comments regarding his “chiseled jawline” and his “exotic” skin colour, the attendants were quite welcoming in their respective regards. 

 

The grand hall was similar to that of Akielos, except that it was painted in Vere’s signature colours: turquoise and gold. A long, narrow carpet covered the centre of the hall with the attendants standing on each side in an orderly fashion. At the end of the hall was the dais, however the usual throne was replaced with a wooden table, displaying what appeared to be a golden circlet much like Laurent’s former crown, except that this one was encircled with small leafs made of gold that twisted at the centre to hold a single sapphire; bejewelling an otherwise simple accessory.

Averting his gaze, Damen followed the two royal escorts towards the end of the hall near the dais where—to his delight— Torveld of Patras, Halvik of Vask, and Laurent’s advisor Vannes also stood. 

Halvik greeted Damen with a firm nod and a languid smile, mentioning that Damen’s infamous virility had obviously been due to his royal upbringing. He also briefly exchanged words with Vannes regarding the state of affaires in Sicyon. Damen was informed that after Meniados’ flee from Karthas, his cousin Mackenna had acted according to his birthright, and had taken control of Sicyon as the new Kyros; he would be attending the summit at Kingsmeet at the designated time.

Once their conversation was concluded, Damen turned his attention to Torveld. It had occurred to Damen that the Patran Prince had yet to meet him with his rightful title. The last time the two had met was in Arles, where Damen had been wearing Laurent’s collar. Now they faced each other as free men; a King and a Prince of their proper nations. Torveld took a few seconds to observe Damen, taking in his features as if for the first time. 

‘What a strange turn of events,’ Torveld said, his voice equally amused and wary.

‘Indeed, although my opinion of you has not changed with my status.’

‘And what opinion is that?’

‘That you are kind, and worthy of your title,’ Damen admitted amicably. 

Any further conversation between the two was halted with the sound of heralding trumpets, announcing the entrance of royalty with their fanfare. 

Turning around, Damen’s breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. Laurent was gracefully walking down the aisle, like a golden eagle, fierce yet elegant. He was dressed in a Persian blue robe embroidered with gold thread at the edges; a starburst was delicately sewn over Laurent’s heart on the left to mark the royal insignia. Never had Damen seen anything so captivating in his life. So lost he was in the beautiful tangle that was his lover. 

Reaching the dais, Laurent stopped and faced the table where his crown was placed, his back displayed to the crowd who whispered in awe and newfound adoration. The hall fell quiet as the court’s reverend—a white-clad middle-aged man— walked up the dais and began addressing the crowd.

‘Welcome, Royal Highnesses, members of the Veretian court, as well as our allies across the land to Vere’s 34th coronation since its establishment as an independent nation. Today we are gathered here to pass the crown from the late King Aleron, to his young son, Prince Laurent.’ The crowd clapped diligently and Damen followed, his eyes glued to his lover’s back. 

‘Prince Laurent,’ the reverend called out as he picked up the crown with both hands. ‘do you swear an oath to protect Vere, its lands and its people with your life?’ 

‘I do.’ Laurent’s answer was firm, carrying across the room. 

‘Do you swear to be place the interests of the country before your own?’

‘I do.’ 

‘Do you swear to be loyal to the crown, and to do all that you are able to ensure the prosperity of our nation?’ 

‘I do.’ 

‘Do you swear to honour your father, and those before him by fulfilling your royal duties?’

‘I do.’ 

‘Do you swear to continue your lineage by providing Vere with future heirs?’

Damen gasped and there was a pause during which Laurent’s shoulders moved with the single, heavy breath he took; after a few laboured seconds the Veretian gave his assent, albeit less firmly. 

‘I do.’

‘Alas the fate of our lands is within your hands. Please step forward and accept your crown.’

Laurent inclined his head, and the reverend placed the golden circlet over his head in a practiced motion. 

‘With your oath, as well as your crown, I pronounce you the rightful King of Vere. You may now face the crowd.’ 

Laurent turned around just in time to see the attendants applaud respectfully. From where Damen stood, Laurent’s eyes were two oceans; deep blue hues sparkling with hope and determination. His eyes scanned the crowd, registering each face and nodding in acknowledgement until they rested on Damen, and locked there. There was a moment, at which Damen felt time stopping; if a reality without Laurent ever existed, Damen could not remember. 

Laurent was looking at him—no, he was _gazing_ at Damen. His eyes warm and inviting, as if he was offering Damen his soul in front of everyone; as if no one else mattered. And Damen, he wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry; take Laurent into his arms and whisper in words, and affirm with touch, exactly how proud he was of the young man, how he would rip the world in half if it decided to hurt him again. They had met, they had fought, hated and finally loved. 

The sapphire on Laurent’s circlet twinkled and Damen saw a flash of memory, of Nicaise’s twin sapphires dangling from Laurent’s fist as he looked out the window in sorrow. Laurent had fashioned a memoriam from that earring; he had moulded the Regent’s gift to his pet into something in-tarnishable and everlasting: a crown. 

He was unsure of the point where his heart had betrayed him. All he knew was that staring at the blond now, he saw the man he would kill for, the man he would die for if he wished it so. Oh, how Damen loved him. 

Distantly, Damen heard someone break out in a joyous cheer, he belatedly turned around to see it was Makedon, and when he faced Laurent again the moment was gone and Laurent was back to being his proud and poised self; although the corners of his mouth had lifted in a smile at the sound of Makedon’s cheer.

And with that, the ceremony transformed into a formal ball. The attendants were led to the adjoining halls where Laurent went to sit on his newly crafted throne; overlooking the crowd with his legs crossed and one arm placed under his chin. 

Music was played and an assortment of meat and ale was offered by servants in brightly coloured ensembles. Torveld made his way to where Damen was standing as close as he could get to the dais and handed him some ale which Damen accepted graciously as they made idle conversation before being joined by Makedon. 

‘He hesitated at the mention of heirs,’ Damen’s Captain mentioned gamely.

Torveld’s expression noticeably soured and he turned to Damen, ‘I understand that this is not the most opportune time, yet I must speak with the two of you,’ he tipped his head towards Laurent pointedly ‘regarding the state of affairs in Patras.’ 

Damen frowned in confusion as Torveld continued hurriedly, ‘This is not the place for what I wish to discuss; once the ceremony comes to an end, I will seek you out.’

‘Should I be worried?’

‘Only if you have been shortsighted.’ 

Damen felt a foreboding sensation at the pit of his stomach but restrained himself from asking further. After a few moments of the crowd mingling together and feasting on the food, the royal host stepped forward and announced the commencement of the coronation dance. 

During his long hours of studying their neighbouring country as a curious youth, Damen recalled reading about Vere’s traditional post-coronation dance. If historical logs were anything to go by, the newly-crowned King would be inviting the leader of every nation to an elaborate Veretian dance as a display of solidarity. _Laurent doesn't know how to dance_ Damen thought just as the object of his concern stood from his place on the throne and made his way towards the crowd. 

And soon enough, Damen stared dumfounded as Laurent bowed to Halvik ceremoniously and extended his hand for the Vaskian leader to take before leading her to the centre of the ballroom.

The music changed into something more upbeat and Damen watched as Laurent placed a hand on Halvik’s waist and began moving in quick steps forwards and backwards; drawing an invisible star-shaped pattern on the floor. His movements were precise and easily executed; it was obvious that Laurent had had the opportunity to learn the quick-stepped routine during his younger days. 

Damen suddenly realized that he had much to learn from his Veretian lover. He had been intimate with his body, as well as the inner-workings of his mind yet there was much of Laurent’s past that was a blank for Damen. He planned to change that through time. 

Releasing Halvik and bowing once again in respect, Laurent moved to entertain the other leaders with the elaborate dance; Damen suppressed the flicker of jealousy that was beginning to form inside him for the second time since he had arrived in Vere. There was no point in obsessing over the endeavours of man who—by law—was meant to belong to everyone. 

When it came to Torveld, Laurent gave the older man a small, genuine smile and led him forward. Damen noticed that Torveld kept his posture friendly, yet polite; it was unclear if the thoughtful gesture was for Damen’s sake, or his own. His thoughts trailed to the Patran Prince’s slave, Erasmus whose safety Damen had negotiated with Laurent during his captivity. He wondered if the boy was fairing well with his new master and decided to ask Torveld as soon as his hands were free of his lover…quite literally. 

After what felt like ages, Laurent concluded his affaire with Torveld and gracefully walked towards Damen with an extended hand that Damen took after a beat or two during which the Akielon had to remind himself that he too, was a leader. A fact that appeared to have slipped his mind while observing the blond. 

Laurent’s hands were unusually soft; an aftereffect of a two-hours long bath Damen supposed. They walked to the centre of the ballroom and it was all too late for Damen to mention to the Veretian that dancing was not his strongest feature. Laurent appeared to have foreseen this shortcoming judging from the uncharacteristically wide grin he was wearing as he gripped Damen’s bicep tighter and guided Damen’s right hand to his shoulder; preventing it from instinctively slipping over Laurent’s waist. 

The music was loud enough to muffle any and all whispers that would later spin into the most scandalous of court gossips; unfortunately, what it could not conceal was the courtiers’ curious faces as they unmistakably recounted the rumours surrounding the nature of their unusual alliance. Damen couldn't care less at the moment. His eyes were glued to Laurent’s as they began to move—clumsily at first, and later tentatively—to the beat of flutes and violins. 

‘Do the courtiers know we’re intimate?’ Damen found himself asking as his body adjusted to the routine. His voice was low enough to go unheard over the loud tunes.

‘Oh they more than know. The latest rumour was that I dress like a woman in private to please you.’ 

Damen’s eyes widened comically at the mental image and Laurent rolled his eyes amusingly. ‘Did the council speak of it after the trial?’ 

‘Yes, among other things.’ 

‘Such as?’

‘Our relationship no longer seems to concern them. They are under the impression that I will eventually take a wife to produce an heir.’

They made a long semi-circle stride across the floor before returning to the quick-stepped patterns. 

‘And is that your plan?’ Damen asked softly. 

‘I’ll let them think it is until we announce the unification of our kingdoms; which will only be possible if we follow the plan we agreed upon in Ios,’ Laurent said and briefly separated from Damen to circle around him before joining their hands together again for a faster pacing.

‘And then? What will you tell them once they discover that you will be the last of your lineage?’ 

‘If we are to be a single kingdom, and if Jokaste returns with your child then it would not matter,’ Laurent stated confidently. 

‘You still believe that child is mine?’ 

‘I do not doubt it.’

‘Then why did she escape?’

‘Jokaste is not as simple as you perceive her to be. She wished for a fresh start, where her choices would not be a constant reminder of what she has lost.’ 

‘You think the council will accept an Akielon heir?’ Damen asked; purposely pushing any further mentions of Jokaste to a more appropriate setting. 

‘They will have to if they are told that their King is sterile Laurent answered calmly, as if such manipulations were a common occurrence in Veretian court. By bribing the court physicians into falsely informing the council that he is incapable of producing an heir, a childless Laurent would remain at Damen’s side and his Akielon heir as they ruled their joint kingdom together. It was a perfect ending. _Almost too perfect_ Damen thought.

The song finally came to an end and Laurent pressed on Damen’s bicep to slow their movements until they reached a graceful halt. Instead of bowing this time, Laurent called out to the rest of the attendants to join him on the dance floor and they reluctantly complied as each member partnered up with another in preparation for the next tune. 

They continued to dance for a few more moments and Damen saw Lazar and Pallas from the corner of his eye as a mortified Pallas was dragged to the dance floor by a drunk-looking Lazar. 

‘I am a damn warrior not a jester!’ Pallas’ protests were useless against Lazar’s determination to have fun. The two struggled for a while before falling into a rhythmic pattern and soon enough, Pallas’ concentrated frown turned into a laugh as he allowed himself to be moved around sloppily by his overjoyed counterpart. 

Makedon who was partnered up with a voluptuous and energetic noblewoman, merrily approached Laurent and gave a sly wink before whispering: ‘You know what I enjoy more than Veretian royalty who can hold their drinks, Your Highness?’ He did not wait for a reply, ‘Veretian nobles who know how to dance.’ 

Laurent who seemed utterly amused, brought his head closer to Makedon’s before asking: ‘How about vengeful Veretian noblemen whose wives get stolen by Akielon warriors?’ 

Before Makedon had a chance to reply, a skinny, unimpressed-looking Veretian noble tapped on the Captain’s shoulder and soon enough, the two were walking towards the side of the hall to engage in a typical rival’s spat. 

‘He’ll be all right,’ Laurent decided after watching the larger man crack his knuckles in front of the nobleman teasingly. 

Shortly after, Damen felt himself being pulled away from the ceremonious crowd who had warmed up considerably after a few rounds of dancing. Laurent, the master of stealth and disguise, managed to slip past the guards by telling the two men standing in front of the veranda to keep an eye out for ‘the skinny guy who appears to be too full of drink to choose his opponents wisely.’ 

They made their way past the windows and towards the farthest corner of the roofed platform. It was a cool day in Vere and the light breeze dried the sweat from Damen’s neck. Veretian clothing of any kind did not suit Damen; he was used to light clothing that did not cling to the body like a second skin. 

Standing beside the metal railings that were covered in grapevines ripe with fruit, Damen impulsively took Laurent’s hand in his own and pressed a chaste kiss on the soft knuckles.

‘You don’t waste any time do you?’ 

‘I tend to be more impulsive around you, which given my reputation is still far too restrained in the eyes of my men in Akielos.’ 

Laurent raised an eyebrow at the boastful comment and took a step closer; their chests a few inches away from brushing against each other. 

‘Oh? And I suppose this reputation of yours propels you to have many bedmates?’ 

‘I don’t have to live up to my reputation,’ Damen answered warmly, bridging the gap between their bodies and placing a soft kiss on Laurent’s forehead, over the twinkling sapphire of his circlet. 

Laurent looked exquisite under the moonlight, all tender lips and sharp cheekbones; he looked even more exquisite when Damen coaxed him to passion with soft words and gentle touch. 

‘Where’s Jord?’ Damen asked curiously. He had not seen the man since his interruption at Ios. 

‘Miss him already? He was at my coronation, but I gave him permission to retire early. His social skills have declined considerably since Aimeric’s…predicament.’ Damen could detect a hint of worry in Laurent’s otherwise impersonal voice which told Damen that despite the chasm, the relationship between King and Captain could be mended in time. 

‘I noticed councillor Audin giving you the dirty looks from across the hall,’ said Damen.

‘Give him a few months and he’ll be so busy that he’ll forget about it,’ Laurent said nonchalantly leaning against the railings and lifting himself to sit atop the structure. Damen went to stand between Laurent’s parted legs, setting both hands on either side of his lover’s thighs. 

‘Care to explain?’

‘After my return from Ios, I held a meeting with the council. I stated my desire to renew the peace treaty with Akielos, and they were quite impressed with my political decisiveness considering the fact that they had spent years believing that I was just a spoilt brat.’ 

Damen grinned and knocked his forehead teasingly against the blond’s. Laurent seemed positively startled, yet he continued: ‘I also told them that while I could not prevent Veretian nobility from having pets, as they are technically free to choose and to move as they please, I let them know that as the future acting ruler, I would not tolerate any sexual acts against children and adolescents under the age of sixteen. Which means, no Veretian across this land can legally have a pet that is underage; failing to comply with the new law will lead to a trial and future incarceration. Furthermore, if a pet of any age is being mistreated or abused, they may complain to the city magistrate who will then hold a trial against the offender.’ 

Damen’s eyes widened in surprise, unable to believe Laurent or anyone to be capable of such feats in such a short time from their ascension to the throne. ‘And they just let you change a long-held tradition overnight?’ 

Laurent glared at him pointedly, ‘You underestimate me Damen. I trade in thinly veiled threats, deception, and blackmail. Audin was glaring at me because I just cost him a rather expensive pet. You see, Nicaise thrived on court gossip, especially when it pertained to his own situation. He had told me once that councillor Mathe, who held a petty grudge against Audin over some land feud, had taken Audin’s youngest, yet most treasured son as a pet. Apparently, the young boy had led a strict and uneventful life under his father’s rules and was dying to get some action so he happily slipped into Mathe’s bed out of spite for his father.’

Damen shook his head in distaste, the thought of any self-respectable man bedding a child was sickening to him. 

‘As you can imagine, this little secret would not please Audin since he had invested a lot on his bright son’s future. So when I brought up my plans at the council meeting, Audin and Mathe were the most displeased since Audin himself enjoyed the company of a rather young bedmate, and Mathe did not wish to be convicted for his indiscretions.’

‘I can see where this is going. You are brilliant,’ Damen complimented, dipping his head down to press a kiss at the juncture between his lover’s jaw and ear. 

Closing his eyes, Laurent continued in soft-spoken words, ‘I simply happened to make a casual slip of the tongue that revealed Mathe’s affaire with Audin’s son and the man was furious…apparently he only favours fucking children when his own family is excluded. Audin, whose family honour was in question, had to press for a trial at least for the sake of his appearance. Mathe was deemed guilty at the trial and the child had no choice but to testify against his old lover only to escape his father’s wrath. Audin on the other hand, was pardoned due to his pet testifying in his favour; but he lost his rights to a pet permanently which explains his sour face at my coronation.’ 

Damen nodded approvingly, and nuzzled Laurent’s neck who surpassed a shiver from the warm breath against his cool skin. ‘So Mathe is in prison and Audin lost his pet? What of the other councillors?’

‘Herode, the eldest, was never in favour of keeping pets to begin with, and both Juerre and Chelaut are reasonable members with pets who are well above their adolescent years. Audin is indecisive but not nearly as bad as Mathe who was like a rat, leaking of treachery.’

‘Impressive,’ Damen said as his hands massaged Laurent’s thighs in a comforting motion, Laurent shifted closer and pressed his forehead against Damen’s once again. ‘So now you’re left with four councillors and a brand new law to pass?’

‘Already done,’ Laurent said with a flick of his delicate wrist. ‘Did you not notice the lack of underage pets or overt displays of carnal intention?’

Damen’s heart was filled with pride and wonder for the young man. How could be so lucky? He had found the most perfect companion to share his life with. Moving his face, he dipped down to capture Laurent’s lips; pressing against the plump flesh leisurely as his palms caressed his lover’s thighs, moving up and down, massaging the back of Laurent’s knee before finally resting on his hips. Laurent’s breath hitched and his lips parted slightly for Damen to sweep his tongue over the lower lip, dampening the flesh with his ministrations. 

When they parted slightly to catch their breaths, it was Laurent who closed the gap again and in a moment of boldness, pressed a kiss at the corner of Damen’s jaw, just above his pulse. Damen sighed contently and encircled Laurent’s waist in his arms before pushing him backwards, tilting his body slightly against the railings until his lover’s neck was exposed, his face looking upwards and his back supported by Damen’s arms. Laurent let out a startled gasped that was muffled by another, much more hungry kiss that Damen extended to the blond’s chin, the protruding Adam’s apple, and the small expanse of Laurent’s neck that was not covered by opulent fabric. 

‘Damn these Veretian clothes,’ Damen groaned as he peppered Laurent’s neck with more kisses.

‘That doesn’t—’ Laurent tried to catch his breath, ‘seem to stop you from bruising my neck any chance you get.’

Damen chuckled darkly, ‘You love it.’

Silence. 

‘You like that don't you? When I mark your neck I mean,’ Damen asked, this time with less confidence.

Opening his eyes to stare at Damen, Laurent bit his lower lip once before admitting, rather shyly, ‘A lot.’

Damen sighed in helplessness before capturing Laurent’s mouth again and again, biting and pressing and exchanging fluids as the night went on and the sounds of celebration seemed to have died down significantly. 

Damen pulled away from Laurent’s lips to suggest moving to his bedchambers before feeling a sharp tug at his skull and realizing— belatedly—that during the heated frenzy of their passion, Damen’s curled hair had tangled into the curves of Laurent’s circlet. 

Muffling his amusement behind his hand, Laurent tried to take off the accessory while shaking with silenced laughter. 

As Damen struggled to untangle his hair from the assaulting headpiece, he heard footsteps approaching the veranda and turned around in time to see Torveld standing a few steps away, looking impatient and anxious. Damen mentally cursed himself for being so forgetful and stepped forward—while holding the circlet in his hair—towards the Patran Prince.

‘What brings you here Torveld?’ Laurent asked cautiously, appearing to have picked up on Torveld’s unusual mood. 

‘I have unfortunate news to deliver.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have great plans for this story and I have an outline of the entire thing written out. If you notice a lot of fluff in these chapters that's because it's the calm before the storm so you've been warned ;P I try to stay as true to the characters as possible so if you see any OOC moments let me know. This chapter was a pain to write because of the massive info dump I had to fit in there. Lastly, for those of you who want to see Lamen do the do, I assure you it'll happen soon ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a faster update for your guys to show my appreciation for your amazing comments! Thank you for your kind and encouraging words<3 Beware: Plot & Smut Ahead.

‘I have unfortunate news to deliver,’ said Torveld, ‘and I’m afraid it cannot wait any longer.’

Laurent—who had been sitting—slid off the railings in a swift motion and came to stand beside Damen; his eyes swept over their common ally as he gently slid his fingers into Damen’s hair. _He’s standing on his tiptoes_ , Damen mused to himself as he inclined his head to give his lover a better angle to work with. Damen watched Laurent try to make quick work of the tangled mess of his curls; the most endearing little frown crossed the blond’s face as his attempts only resulted in a tighter knot. Damen smiled. 

Torveld cleared his throat. ‘Torgeir is not happy,’ he said impatiently. 

‘And why is the Patran King not happy?’ Laurent asked as he separated the thick strands of hair from his crown; careful as to not pull at them too harshly. Damen tried to divide his attention between the clearly distressed prince and the man whose fingers were almost massaging his scalp and found that it was too difficult a task; given that it was Laurent, and it was too tender a gesture for anyone to interrupt. 

Noticing the lack of regard for his presence, Torveld hurriedly reached his point, ’You must wed my niece.’ 

The circlet was finally free of Damen’s hair. Laurent turned to look at the older man with a disbelieving gaze. ‘I am sorry, I must have misheard you.’

Torveld let out a frustrated growl, ‘Laurent, for heaven’s sake, this is not the time for wordplay!’ 

Disliking the man’s tone of voice, Damen took a protective step forward. ‘Speak your mind my friend.’

Torveld inhaled sharply—as if to prepare himself—before explaining everything that had transpired in his kingdom. As the words flew out of his mouth, Damen’s apprehension grew. 

‘My brother has discovered your plans for a treaty renewal and the rumours of a joint kingdom has made him quite uneasy.’

Damen heard Laurent scoff in ridicule, ‘What grandiose allegations. I don’t suppose Torgeir receives his political reports from the local market?’ 

Torveld’s expression hardened. ‘If by the local market, you are referring to Akielos’ former mistress then I reckon it to be true.’ 

At the mention of a mistress, Damen closed his eyes in dread. Of course, Jokaste’s self-beneficial schemes would never seize to burn what little he builds for himself. ‘What has Jokaste done?’

And Torveld told them.

The king of Patras had gained information regarding the Akielos-Vere peace treaty, as well as their plans for a future unification through a lady who—a few days prior—had attempted to cross the Patran borders illegall. When she was refused entrance, she had claimed to hold invaluable information regarding Patran’s neighbouring nations that would be priceless for Torgeir. In exchange for amenity and necessary accommodations, she had been taken to court where she had recounted—albeit reluctantly— everything she knew of Damen and Laurent’s relationship, including their conversations which she had overheard in the carriage on their way to Akielos. 

‘So Jokaste has decided to sell some fabricated lies to your naive brother for a pampered life in Patras,’ said Laurent, his tense posture betraying the nonchalant words. 

Torgeir ignored the passive insult directed at his kin, and continued: ‘For the longest time, Patras and Akielos have been allies. With the newly reformed treaty, Patras would not only lose its premium trading rights to Vere, but it would also be overshadowed by the conjoined lands.’

Nodding in understanding, Damen concluded Torveld’s delineation: ‘The King fears that as a smaller nation who thrives on trade and exports, and whose military defence is inferior to that of our nations, Patras would be under constant threat and subordination.’

‘That is correct,’ Torveld nodded. Laurent remained as silent and as alert as a snake; awaiting to hunt its prey. 

‘Henceforth, in order to secure our position as the primary trading partner to Akielos, as well as to ensure Patras’ safety against the future joint kingdom, Torgeir wishes to insert the blood of a Patran royalty within the court of Akielos-Vere.’

‘We will consider officially including Patras as our third ally and partner within the new peace treaty,’ Laurent all but commanded, ‘but a marriage between I, as the King of Vere, and a Patran princess is out of question.’ 

Gone was the warm and affectionate gazes Torveld afforded Laurent during their trading negotiations. Damen had never seen the man look at Laurent with such despondency; it was as if he was seeing the object of his affections with a new pair of eyes.

‘Torgeir will not agree to an inclusion in the peace treaty alone,’ Torveld explained as-a-matter-of-factly. ‘If you wish to use trade as an excuse to populate your border-regions in order to promote cultural integration, the primary trading deals are expected to be between Akielos and Vere. Torgeir will not have sloppy, second hand goods and services.’ 

‘Sloppy services?’ Laurent asked in frustration. ‘We are offering you a third of our trades!’ 

Torveld shook his head, ‘Despite equal shares, Vere would still have sole access to premium exchanges. The only way Patras will agree to be secondary trade partners is to ensure the peace and safety of the nation through a successful marriage with Torgeir’s only daughter.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Damen exclaimed, ‘you cannot force the King of Vere into an unwanted marriage.’ 

‘The Veretian council will stand by my brother’s proposal,’ Torveld replied; helplessness evident from his expression. It occurred to Damen that Torveld had once desired Laurent; it was clear that despite their current dispute, the Patran Prince still harboured lingering feelings for Damen’s lover. 

‘They would push for a union that would solidify the bond between all three nations. That way, neither Vere, nor Akielos would have to worry about future warfare; they would have time to recover from the recent usurpations.’ 

‘You want your niece to give Laurent of Vere heirs of Patran descent?’ asked Damen, his heart heavy with the knowledge that his dreams for a future, where he would have Laurent all to himself were just that: dreams. Laurent turned to look at Damen, who avoided his gaze; unable to see the disappointment, the sheer hopelessness in them. Instead, when he dared to turn his face, he saw a fire in Laurent’s eyes that had been absent for a few months; he saw the anger that had burned in those orbs when their fates had first collided. 

‘That is what my brother desires,’ Torveld stated. ‘with the mother of Akielos-Vere’s future heirs being Patran, the peace treaty will be fortified and your joint kingdom would not attack without compromising the future of all three nations and their children.’ 

‘And if I refuse this _offer_?’ Laurent spat, his fingers holding on to the circlet with unnecessary strength.

Torveld sighed, as if dreading the answer. ‘Torgeir knows Jokaste’s child is Damianos’ heir and is willing to return the mother and child to Akielos—healthy and unharmed—in the condition that Laurent agrees to take his daughter as his wife and the mother of Vere’s first generation of heirs.’

Laurent opened his mouth to protest but Torveld pressed on,‘Failing to agree to this condition will lead to a full-fledged attack from Patras that your nations cannot withstand after months of war. It will displease your armies, and as both Kings’ first political maneuver, it will give you a negative reputation, as well as a less than ideal public image. Torgeir will also reveal your plans for unification to your courts immediately.’

Damen inhaled sharply, knowing all too well that should their plans be publicized early, there would be no trading routes or cultural integration to use as proof of a successful merging. The council and the Kyroi would shut their proposal down unquestionably, fearing an overdue power on either side. 

‘You have no choice but to comply.’ Torveld’s voice rang of finality. 

‘ _Choice_?’ Laurent snapped, ’There’s always a choice. I can order my men to attack Patras at this very moment; with Akielon forces by my side, Patras will not stand a chance. Then, we shall see who would be forced to comply.’ 

Torveled’s eyes widened in shock. ‘You would attack a valuable ally, and lay waste to an entire nation on the sole basis of marital disinterest?’ 

‘Yes!—’

‘No!’

It was Damen who interrupted Laurent’s emotional altercation. Laurent flinched from beside Damen as if he had been burned. 

‘ _What_?’ His lover asked in dismay. 

Damen ignored him, and directed his pleading gaze to Torveld. ‘Thank you for forewarning us of such a sensitive matter; I only ask that you give us time to consider and make the appropriate decision.’ 

The two exchanged a meaningful look. A series of emotions passed through Torveld’s troubled eyes and after a few beats, he simply said, ‘Torgier’s official letter will arrive in the morrow.’ And with that, he turned and walked back into the hall, leaving an ashen-faced Laurent standing beside Damen. 

 

Damen could hear his heart drumming against his chest in the long, laborious silence that followed after Torveld’s departure. Laurent had gone from angry to furious, and later to an eerie calmness that made Damen’s skin prickle from inquietude. 

‘Say something,’ Damen asked, hoping that his voice could break through whatever trance Laurent had placed himself in. 

‘I need to dismiss the guests; they will not leave until their King has retired,’ said Laurent in a small voice. Damen hated that he was the cause of it. However, Laurent needed to see reason; it would be more than unwise to wound a loyal hound whose bite one has never been subjected to. Laurent’s barbed words had the tendency to prick friends and enemies alike and Torveld may not have been so forgiving had the blond continued. 

He watched Laurent leave the veranda and after a few solitary moments—which he used to gather his thoughts—Damen followed.

He walked into the ballroom just in time to see Laurent raising a golden goblet towards the guests, thanking them for attending the ceremony before drinking its contents in one gulp. Damen shook his head. 

Shortly after, Laurent had managed to dismiss all the attendants, and royal escorts were dispatched to guide those of the courtiers who had been too uninhibited with their drinks to their assigned chambers, or to the nearest outhouse to relieve themselves of their overindulgence. Damen greeted his own men, and instructed Makedon—sharp as ever despite the ale—to ensure that everyone would be at their best behaviour by dawn. 

By the time Laurent stepped off of the dais, the room had been cleared and the sole remaining occupants were the servants who were gathering the trays and cleaning the tables with efficiency. 

Damen stood very still as Laurent approached him, only to realize Laurent had been moving towards the hall leading to his bedchambers. 

Staring at his lover’s rigid back as they reached the chambers, Damen let out a heavy breath as Laurent did not instruct the guards to keep him out. Instead, they wordlessly stepped aside as Damen entered the room; clearly trained not to ask questions that would subject them to the icy glares of their King. 

Hearing the doors close behind him, Damen went to stand behind Laurent, refraining himself from touching his shoulders in case he would lash out in anger. Laurent did not lash out.

‘So, as I understand it, you are perfectly content with me being passed around like a party favour.’

‘What?’ 

Laurent turned around to fix Damen with an accusatory stare; betrayal evident in his blue eyes.

‘Do you even realize what you have agreed to?’

Damen could hear his voice raising in defence. ‘I didn’t agree to anything! I restrained you from impaling a valuable ally, whose only crime is that he has a lingering sense of loyalty towards you, with your inconsiderate words.’ 

‘ _He_ , and his buffoon of a brother are forcing me to wed their relative for their own political gains! Knowing all too well that I have no interest in women!’

‘This marriage will not change anything,’ Damen ground out in frustration. 

‘It will change everything!’ Then, ‘Do you want me to fuck her?’ Laurent posed the question with a narrowing of his eyes, as if the answer was no longer clear to him.  
‘I would never!’ Damen replied painfully. The very thought of Laurent laying with someone else made his insides burn with possessiveness. He lowered his voice significantly, ‘Did you not say that you would fake your own sterility in case the council decided to have you marry?’

‘That could have been the case had they suggested a Veretian noblewoman! I could have bribed the physician into lying about my health _before_ I was forced to wed. With Torgeir’s plans to integrate Patran blood into our court and the threat of our plans being exposed, as well as a war looming over our heads I have no choice but to marry her if I wish to avoid bloodshed!’ Laurent was visibly shaking. It was as if every scenario and outcome was playing before his eyes one by one; obliterating his faculties. 

‘Laurent,’ Damen called out in desperation, ‘you are not thinking clearly. Even if you marry her, you wouldn't have to spend any time with her outside of formal and public events.’ Laurent inhaled in frustration but Damen continued in a low voice: ‘Instead of a medical examination, we can stage an accident; a fall from the horse as you are riding. Paschal or another physician will be notified, and they will be made to say that the impact has irrevocably damaged your ability to produce heirs.’

Laurent’s jaw ticked and his brows formed a pensive frown. _Good, he’s considering my words_ , Damen thought. ‘If we make the accident appear real and perilous, there will be witnesses to support the physician’s claims. And as your wife, the Patran Princess will still have the political leverage that ensures the safety of her country even in the absence of an heir.’

‘The council will not be happy,’ Laurent said, appearing to have calmed down slightly. 

Damen gave a small, relieved smile at the temporary assuage in Laurent’s feelings. He gently placed a hand on Laurent’s shoulder and waited for his lover to relax under his touch. He did not. 

‘As you said, the council will have to accept their King’s fate and once our kingdoms are united, the presence of my son will satisfy their need for a legitimate heir.’

‘That means you would have to wed Jokaste.’ 

Damen had realized that for some time now, and knowing Laurent, his lover had come to the same conclusion long before he had spoken of her and Damen’s heir at the ball. 

‘Yes, but you already knew that,’ Damen spoke softly, Laurent simply closed his eyes and it broke Damen’s heart, so he brought two fingers underneath Laurent’s chin, and slowly, lifted it. The sadness in Laurent’s eyes mirrored his own; unable to see the man he loved suffer, Damen pressed his forehead against the blond’s and—to his relief—Laurent did not pull away. 

‘It will only be a formality. As yours will be. With our wives by our side, the legal hurdles of our plans will be taken care of, the council and the Kyroi will be appeased with my heir, and we will be free to join our kingdoms in time and rule it together as one.’

‘Jokaste—’

‘Jokaste will agree to the marriage because she desires a comfortable life. And she knows better than to expect anything more from me than a diligent father to her child; not after what she did to me, not after the way she betrayed me.’ 

For a moment, Damen saw Laurent struggle with something, some form of information that he wished to share; but he nodded his head, and Damen decided not to pursue what he had observed. 

‘And the Patran Princess?’ Laurent sounded so quiet, so uncharacteristically tired. Laurent never showed weakness, not to his enemies, not to his friends, and not even to Damen. It was clear that whatever Laurent was seeing, Damen could not. He wished to soothe his lover’s worries with the future he himself was beginning to see. The presence of the two wives could be beneficial in the execution of their merging; a kingdom needed the steadfast involvement of women, regardless of their origins. 

‘We will inform her of our relationship; she must know the gist of it from her father, but you should tell her of your inclinations towards men. She will understand in time.’ 

‘You called him your son,’ said Laurent, seemingly distracted. 

Damen moved his hand once again, this time to cup Laurent’s cheek and felt the warm breath of his lover against his cuffed wrist. The heavy gold a reminder of their time together, their dedication to each other. 

‘He will be _our_ son. We shall raise him together.’ Damen saw Laurent react to his words, and made himself not react. His eyes briefly twinkled with something pure and hopeful before their owner stifled them. 

Damen would not have that. He brought his free hand to his lover’s face as well, and drew him close; slowly caressing his fine cheekbones with the press of his thumbs. He was close enough to see Laurent’s uneven breathing, the tense line of his shoulders. 

‘He will have your intelligence, but my temperament,’ Damen teased, hoping to lighten Laurent’s mood with dreams of their future.‘Jokaste will be overjoyed once I name him after your brother,’ Damen said playfully, although his intentions were quite serious. He would name his son, and sole heir to their throne after Auguste, Laurent’s brother who had been the catalyst for their fates intwining. 

Laurent’s eyes widened at the mention of his brother, and Damen could detect a slight tremble in his voice as he said, ‘You—I _want_ to believe you. So badly.’ 

‘Then believe me,’ Damen simply said, and waited. He waited for Laurent to make the first move, to either draw back or close in. Laurent stood still for a few beats before tilting his head slightly and pressing the tiniest kiss on Damen’s lips; his mouth lingering there for a few seconds, golden lashes brushing over the Akielon’s cheek. 

Damen smiled beneath Laurent’s mouth and placed his hands over his lover’s hips, pressing there with his fingers. 

‘Let me make love to you,’ said Damen. 

‘Make love to me,’ Laurent replied, his voice but a whisper. 

Softly, gently, Damen pushed against Laurent’s hips, lifting him with his hands and bringing the muscular body up until their faces were levelled. Laurent let out a startled gasp at the motion, but moved his thighs to circle Damen’s lower body; his legs crossed at Damen’s back. 

‘Hold on to me,’ Damen asked and Laurent nodded as the Akielon began walking—with his lover’s arms wrapped around his neck—towards the silk-laden bed. 

Damen slowly lowered Laurent on the soft cushions, and the latter was placed on his back, with one knee slightly parted and his hands falling beside his face. Spread on the sheets in full regalia, including his crown and the starburst on his chest, Laurent looked like a portrait to be hung at the most exclusive of expositions; available for the eyes of the very few who deserved to behold his beauty. 

Climbing the bed himself, Damen pressed a single kiss over Laurent’s circlet, just as he had done earlier that night on the veranda. 

‘You did it,’ Damen could not help but say, ‘you finally have your crown.’ 

‘And I have you,’ Laurent replied, a question underlying his tone.

‘Yes, always and forever.’ Laurent shuddered.

Damen ran his hands over the clothed chest beneath his fingers, his lover laying very still as he explored the body he had craved to conquer for weeks. He lowered his face just enough to softly nuzzle Laurent’s chest, breathing in his scent as his hands slowly rubbed parted thighs and the curve of Laurent’s bent knee. 

A light pressure on his hair had Damen looking up; taking in the still sad, yet visibly relaxed features of his lover, Damen turned his head to the caress, nosing the juncture between wrist and golden cuff. 

‘You’re still wearing it,’ Damen mused, ‘I love it.’ 

Laurent didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled his wrist away from where Damen was nudging it and placed both hands above his own head, a challenge in his eyes.

Damen stared at the man beneath him before hooking a finger underneath the laces at Laurent’s throat; pulling at it gently. He applied the same tactic over each of his lover’s intricate ties; opening them with a practiced precision that had Laurent breathing heavily under the parted garment. 

Keeping his gaze steady, Damen made quick work of Laurent’s white trousers, pushing at the golden buttons and finally sliding it off the smooth thighs; exposing unblemished skin and androgynous legs. Laurent’s white undershirt clung to his body; defining the bulge that spoke of the man’s arousal. Their eyes locked and held. Under the light of burning candles, Damen’s eyes worshipped Laurent’s body piece by piece; focusing on one area before trailing his attention to another. The intimate exploration brought the loveliest of colours to Laurent’s cheeks and his eyelashes lowered to cover blue orbs. Moving a hand to conceal his face, Damen tangled Laurent’s fingers in his own and pressed it back where it had lain, over his lover’s head. Laurent turned his neck in order to escape Damen’s piercing gaze. 

‘Look at me,’ his voice, when he heard it, was warm if not gritty from sentiment.

Laurent’s jaw clenched in annoyance before turning his head, presenting Damen with a flustered expression. 

‘Gorgeous,’ Damen called his lover, and Laurent let out a strange sound. 

‘Fuck me.’ 

‘No,’ chided Damen, ‘I will take my time pleasuring you.’ And with that, Damen slid his body down until he was facing Laurent’s knees; his hand reached for a muscled calf and pushed it back onto his lover’s stomach, who gasped at the sudden movement but remained otherwise motionless. Damen turned his head and pressed a kiss on the delicate ankle, and another at the sole of his fair foot.

Laurent made a small noise, and Damen continued in the same direction, placing sensual, open-mouthed kisses over Laurent’s knee, calf, and inner thigh. Once Damen’s mouth reached the dip between thigh and manhood, he angled his head and bit the soft skin just a few inches away from his lover’s arousal. Laurent snapped his neck back and Damen repeated the motion, eliciting another, barely- controlled sound from the blond. 

‘Do you like that?’ Asked Damen, watching the man struggle with himself. Despite their coupling, expressing emotions and giving voice to his desires did not come easily to his lover. Damen waited; his lips tracing patterns over Laurent’s inner thigh.

‘Ah…’ Laurent gasped, ‘Yes. It feels…good.’ 

‘Mhmm,’ Hummed Damen; paying no heed to his own perturbing arousal that was pressing at the sheets, dampening them with his want. 

‘What do you want?’

‘I— _Damen_ ,’ Laurent half-pleaded.

Damen knew he was pushing his lover into unexplored territory; yet he wished to hear Laurent speak of his desire without any shame or repercussion.

_I will be different_ , Damen thought determinedly, _I will make him happy_.

Damen ran his hands over Laurent’s spread thighs; nosing at the soft skin and breathing in the familiar scent of the body he held gently—oh so gently. 

‘Just take me,’ Laurent sighed in frustration.

‘Be specific.’

Laurent glared at Damen pointedly; Damen refused to back down. Unable to help himself, he pulled his body up from where he had been kneeling, and traced his thumb over Laurent’s lips that—in his irritation— had been repressed into a thin line. ‘Don’t conceal your lips, they’re exquisite.’

Laurent let out an involuntary moan and Damen only saw a flash before Laurent was upon him; capturing his lips in his own with a hunger Damen had never felt from the blond; not even during their night together at the inn. Damen struggled to breathe in between his lover’s full lips attacking his mouth; slipping his tongue in without hesitation and drinking from Damen’s mouth as if he was quenched and Damen was a bountiful well. 

‘ _Laurent_ ,’ Damen made a low sound from the back of his throat and helplessly held onto his lover’s waist as he sat himself on Damen’s lap and began—frantically—opening his suede jacket and finally ripping it off of Damen’s body when he reached the last few buttons. Discarding the ruined garment on the floor, Laurent placed himself over Damen’s clothed, leaking cock with the full force of his lower back and Damen cried out in pleasure. He heard Laurent give a breathy chuckle as his palms began exploring the planes of Damen’s chest roughly, desperately. Never had he experienced this side of his lover. For all of his carefully controlled reactions and his lovely hesitancies in bed, Laurent was touching Damen as if he wanted to tear at him with his fingernails; split him open and become a part of his soul. Damen felt blissed. 

Laurent’s breathing was heavy and all encompassing. Damen opened his mouth to speak but was silenced as his lover arched his back and began riding Damen’s cock from over his trousers wildly. He brushed his hands over Damen’s curls and the Akielon felt a sharp tug at the base of his skull before realizing that Laurent had taken a fistful of his hair in his clenched hands and was pulling at it, making Damen’s neck crane backwards. His eyes met Laurent’s from above him, and the look in them made Damen's heart flutter; it was a crazed expression that Damen could only imagine a young boy would wear as he was being pleasured perhaps for the first time, dirty and on the cusp. 

‘Heavens! _Laurent_ ,’ Damen called out desperately, and Laurent simply smiled at him warmly, a wicked twinkle apparent in his eyes. He began to ride Damen in ernest; his buttocks slapping against the fine material of Damen’s garment. And Damen realized—belatedly—that Laurent intended to bring them to release just like this, with an uninhibited thrusting, all sharp hips and clawing fingernails. 

Laurent’s neck was bared to Damen, as his head had lulled back in mindless pleasure, and Damen took the opportunity to press soft kisses at the marble-like expanse; a contradiction to the frenzied movement of their bodies. 

At the first touch of Damen’s lips over the sensitive neck, Laurent shuddered. Damen kissed and nipped and bit at the skin passionately, leaving a litany of marks and bruises on the unblemished surface. He ran his tongue at the hollow of Laurent’s throat and watched his lover moan his approval. The sound forever recorded in Damen’s memory. 

‘ _Damen_ , ah,’ Laurent tried to speak as his body moved up and down in a fast rhythm, his blond hair plastered to his face from the sweat of his passion— _their_ passion.

‘ _Tell me_.Tell me Laurent, what do you want?’ Damen pleaded; his voice utterly gutted from the sensation of his lover’s body on top of him, pleasing him and taking his pleasure shamelessly. 

‘I want...I want you _inside me_.’

And Damen’s world almost fell apart at the demand that sounded so sultry, so provocative from his reserved counterpart. He held Laurent’s waist with his fingers and the blond gasped as the digits pressed with slight force, onto his ribs. _They would bruise tomorrow_ Damen thought, and a feral part of him revelled in the fact that he had been the one to mark the untouchable man who walked like a deity among mortals with his grace and agility. He lifted Laurent from his lap and all but threw him back on the sheets, climbing on top of him with a possessive streak colouring his features. 

‘I’m going to take you, split you open with my cock and fill you with my seed,’ Damen heard himself say, a part of him worrying that the words may have been too assertive for his lover who may have heard the very same words from an unsolicited party. 

Contrary to his apprehension, Laurent let out a throaty noise and spread his legs for Damen, displaying his naked body almost like an offering. Damen felt as though he was dreaming. He could not understand Laurent’s mindset and could only pray to the Gods that his lover would not regret his actions at the first light of dawn. Lost in his thoughts, Damen looked down to see a vial of oil being pressed to his palm. Damen’s eyes widened fractionally. ‘Were you carrying this with you at your coronation?’ 

Laurent looked at him as though he was forgetting some crucial piece of information. ‘You did say you wanted to make me look as though I’ve been fucked by royalty.’ 

Laurent was going to be the end of him, Damen decided; he was defenceless against the man.  
Damen took the glass container and pushed it open with his thumb, coating his fingers with the liquid generously before setting it aside. He bent down to press a chaste kiss on Laurent’s lips.

‘You’re still wearing your circlet,’ Damen snickered as his eyes explored every bump, ridge, nook and cranny on the body bellow him. 

‘Shall I take it off?’ A fine eyebrow was raised in question.

‘Leave it on,’ Damen heard himself growl before taking off Laurent’s undershirt and discarding it haphazardly; baring his lover’s body under the candlelight.

Damen circled a sensitive bud on Laurent’s chest with one hand as the other did the same with his entrance. Laurent’s thighs clenched and unclenched in anticipation and he carefully laid his hand on Damen’s own as he was teasing the hardened nipple. The sight was utterly captivating; Laurent spread wide and exposed beneath his hands as he felt the circling motions of Damen’s hand on his chest with his own. As if on impulse, Damen pressed a finger to Laurent’s oiled entrance and watched as the tightness slowly gave way to the penetrating finger. Laurent gripped Damen’s hand on his chest and attempted to relax himself, his brows crinkling in effort. 

‘Let it go,’ Damen crooned. A shiver escaped Laurent’s vulnerable form and he took a deep breath; the delicate muscle opening around Damen’s digit, clenching over its entire length. 

Smoothing his hand over the hard muscles of his lover’s abdomen, Damen began thrusting his finger in and out of the oiled entrance, remembering the sensation of tight ring muscles opening for him as he had entered Laurent before traveling to Kingsmeet almost a month ago. Laurent had thought it to be their last night together before sacrificing himself to his uncle. He had given his all to Damen that night, and in the morning, had kneeled in front of his assaulter to save Damen from certain death. The Akielon’s heart gave a painful throb at the memory and he leaned down to press his forehead against Laurent’s chest; moving his finger rapidly and feeling the blond’s chest rise and fall rhythmically with the penetration. 

‘What is it?’ Laurent asked between laboured breaths, sensing Damen’s distress without having to look at his lover’s expression.

‘I am happy, so incredibly happy to have you, to be here with you,’ Damen’s voice was soft against Laurent’s chest; a contradiction to the hurried pace of his hands. 'I can't lose you.'

Laurent simply stared at Damen dark-eyed and on the edge of pleasure, and after a moment of honest looking, he bent his neck and kissed the top of Damen’s head as a father would kiss his restless young son; strongly and reassuringly. 

Damen sighed in satisfaction and added a second finger, shortly followed by a third; scissoring the stubborn hole and pulling it open with his thumb and fingers. The blunt penetrative digits caused Laurent’s back to arch, his heels dragging against Damen’s back. 

‘Ah,’ Laurent moaned, ‘I am ready.’

‘Not yet, it’s still—’

‘ _I’m ready Damen_ ,’ said Laurent, this time more affirmatively. 

Damen nodded and slowly withdrew his fingers; he smiled as Laurent gave the smallest of whimpers at the loss. 

In the frenzied moments of their passion, Damen had forgotten that he was yet to remove his trousers. Laurent’s heavy lidded eyes seemed to be focused on the same problem because in the next moment, he lifted a slender foot and placed it over Damen’s covered erection, nudging at it.

Damen groaned in pleasure and gave a slight thrust forward, kneeling on the bed while towering over his lover. Laurent moved his toes as if to trace the shape of the object that was creating a tent in his garment and Damen moaned at the sensation; his cock sensitive after a long period of neglect. Laurent dragged his foot down until he reached the two bulges beneath Damen’s thick arousal. Circling his testicles with the back of his foot. 

Lost in sensation, Damen grabbed Laurent’s ankle in order to maintain the pressure, and Laurent obliged; pressing harder at the leaking cock while also massaging the sensitive globes simultaneously. 

‘How do you want me to take you?’ Damen asked darkly, noticing the playful spark in Laurent’s eyes as he taunted and teased him relentlessly. 

‘Don’t hold back,’ Laurent uttered sensually and Damen’s hold on his lover’s tightened; he pulled away momentarily and dragged Laurent’s body down the sheets by his ankle, pulling him down until he was once again positioned under Damen’s towering body. 

Laurent moaned and this time, it was more audible. Damen noticed that his lover was in the mood for a rougher bed play; and while he could never exhibit the same force that he had often used when enjoying the bodies of his former bedmates, he could break away from some of the inhibitions that had kept his more basic impulses from taking over during his first coupling with the blond. 

Dragging his palms over the toned muscles of his lover’s arms, Damen paused as his hands closed around Laurent’s wrists; a question in his eyes. Laurent nodded his permission and Damen tightened his hold, pressing the man against the sheets and laying on top of him with his full weight. He captured Laurent’s mouth in a messy kiss that had them both panting from pleasure; Damen bit at the man’s chin and sucked in the soft patch of skin under Laurent’s ear. 

‘I’m going to have you moaning my name, so full of my cock,’ Damen whispered in Laurent’s ear and watched his lover throw his head back in pleasure. 

Deciding that he was ready, Damen kneeled on the bed and reinserted three fingers into Laurent’s loosened hole; all at once. Laurent whimpered and clenched himself around the digits. Damen’s free hand worked at the laces of his trousers hurriedly and soon enough, his thick arousal sprang free from around the open laces; his trousers still on. 

Catching the desire-filled look in Laurent’s eyes, before the owner repressed them, Damen’s heart leaped with joy and he shuffled closer to follow Laurent’s line of sight. His lover was staring at Damen’s cock in awe; all large pupils and flushed cheeks. Damen brought a free hand to his member and pulled at it roughly, once, twice; thumbing the sensitive head and watching Laurent swallow visibly from where he lay on the sheets. Damen curled the fingers that rested inside Laurent to keep him open, and the man’s hips gave an involuntary thrust. 

It was obvious that Laurent was losing his patience and was on the verge of piercing Damen with one of his icy glares, but the Akielon bent down and readied himself. With a final look to his lover, Damen drew his fingers back and immediately replaced it with something much thicker, and larger in size. Laurent cried out and Damen kissed his circlet, caressing Laurent’s flank in a soothing manner as he slid inside inch by inch, careful as to not hurt the young man.When his entire length had been swallowed by Laurent’s tight heat, Damen sighed in relief and dropped his head against Laurent’s forehead; the younger man closed his eyes and attempted to control his breathing. 

‘I want to spend days inside you,’ Damen admitted quietly. 

‘I know a few people who would object to that,’ Laurent responded despite the obvious strain he was feeling. Damen smiled and pressed his lips to Laurent’s adoringly before beginning to move. His thrusts were slow and sensual at first; pushing in, all the way to the hilt, before pulling out completely and sliding back in. Laurent gave small moans of pleasure as his body slid up and down according to Damen’s pacing. His fair legs were crossed at Damen’s buttocks and Damen felt them press against him repetitively as his thrusts became harder and faster.

The little noises of pleasure became shorter and more audible, matching the back and forth motion of Damen’s hips as he pushed into Laurent with the full force of his body. Laurent’s nails dug into the scarred flesh at Damen’s back when the Akielon hit a sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside his lover. Damen watched Laurent’s mouth open in a silenced moan, and he angled his cock so that he would hit the same spot at every press forward, causing the blond to clench harder around his cock and milk the pre-come out of his swollen manhood. 

‘ _Damen_ ,’ Laurent called out and the man replied with a sound of his own; throaty and guttural. 

‘I-I need—’ 

Understanding his lover’s request, Damen took Laurent’s cock in his hand, fisting it quickly and skillfully as the blond closed his eyes and clawed at the sheets. Damen pressed open-mouthed kisses on his lover’s mouth which, slightly slack with desire, opened for him with ease. 

Damen pressed his thumb against Laurent’s slit and curled his fingers around the angry-red member; thrusting harshly inside his lover, Damen felt Laurent’s muscles begin to spasm as his entrance fluttered around him. 

Bitting at Laurent’s already bruised neck, Damen whispered: ‘ _Come for me_.’ And Laurent came with a strangled cry, spilling against his stomach and all over their chests; long strings of release covering their bodies as Damen continued to plunge inside his lover’s heated cavern, hitting Laurent’s sensitive nerves over and over again until the blond’s voice was reduced to broken whimpers. 

He was by far the most restrained lover Damen had taken to bed, and despite the obvious indications of pleasure, Laurent had not thrashed, nor screamed throughout their love-making even once. It was a testament to his self-control which Damen yearned,—at least in the confines of their bed—to shatter one day. After what felt like hours, Damen finally found his own release with a grunt and he pressed his body against his lover’s as he emptied inside; long and steady pulses of pleasure shooting into Laurent and filling him with Damen’s seed. 

For a few moments, all Damen could hear was the beat of his own frantic heart drumming against his chest; wishing to remain inside Laurent for as long as he could, Damen simply laid on top the blond, boneless and satisfied. 

‘That was,’ Damen struggled to catch his breath, attempting to form words that could explain his experience, the sheer serenity of their embrace.

‘Far more than adequate?’ Laurent supplied, equally exhausted, and slightly dazed from Damen’s ministrations.

Damen grumbled and nuzzled Laurent’s neck; his lover gave a small flinch and Damen opened his eyes to look at the object of his affections. Surveying the man’s body, Damen saw that Laurent’s body was _covered_ in marks and bruised. His ribs displaying five, symmetrically lined fingerprints while his neck appeared more red that white; love bites and kiss marks scattered all over the delicate expanse of skin. Laurent looked…ravished. 

‘Don’t tell me it can’t be concealed by my veretian garments?’ Laurent asked from beneath him, sounding amused yet unsteady from their recent activity. 

‘It appears as though a giant animal attacked you,’ Damen admitted bashfully; regretting his decision to let go of himself in mindless passion.

Laurent’s laughter, when it came, was both abrupt and musical to Damen’s ear. Damen shook his head in confusion and looked up to see if Laurent had suffered from more grievous injuries than what met the eye; perhaps one to the head. 

‘Giant animal!’ Laurent spat before his voice drowned in uncontrollable laughter. 

There was so much to be done, yet Damen simply laid on top of his lover and circled his delicate waist; allowing the sound of Laurent’s laughter to lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a massive chapter, longer than the usual updates, but I just couldn't separate the love scene from the political intrigue lol. Quick question: Would you guys mind if I introduced a second P.O.V-- other than Damen's--in some of the future chapters?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back with a new update :) This chapter includes one of my most favourite scenes. As always, feedback is GREATLY appreciated.

He woke up with a stabbing pain penetrating his nerves; blinking a few times to adjust to the morning light, Damen brushed a rough knuckle against his sleep-deprived eyes. Scanning his surroundings, he found himself in the grand bedchambers of a newly-crowned King. 

He tilted his chin. The wound along the planes of his stomach had reopened, soaking the fresh bandages with blood. Damen grunted in frustration. 

‘Connaître votre limite.’ 

Standing at the doorway leading towards the private baths stood Laurent. He was wearing a white chiton with golden embroidery on the shoulders. At the sight of the blond, Damen’s frown blossomed into a smile.

‘You’re wearing that chiton again,’ Damen said; his voice an appreciative rumble. 

‘Do you want to know what it means?’

‘What does it mean?’ 

‘Know thy limit,’ said Laurent, this time, in Akielon. He made his way towards the bed, and Damen saw that he was holding two fresh towels, and a sac that looked suspiciously similar to that of Paschal’s. 

‘And what is my limit?’ Damen asked gamely, equally amused and touched by Laurent’s intentions.

‘Sex.’ 

Laurent carefully placed the medical sac on a nearby table, and stood over the bed where Damen lay—half sprawled—on the sheets. 

‘Are you implying that I should stop making love to you?’

‘I am saying that you should think twice before you throw yourself in the throes of passion,’ Laurent chastised. 

‘But you’re wearing a chiton,’ Damen pointed out with the most serious face he could muster.

‘And?’

‘You know how I feel about you wearing a chiton.’ 

Laurent made a disapproving sound but did not manage to turn around fast enough to conceal the rose shade colouring his cheeks. 

Grabbing a needle and some soothing salves from the sac, Laurent placed cool hands on Damen’s broad stomach, and made quick work of the few opened stitches. Meanwhile, Damen tried his best not to take advantage of their promiscuous position; he was no stranger to pain, he was however a novice to the enigma that was Laurent.

‘Paschal taught me how to mend wounds properly in case you decided to return to your barbaric ways.’ 

‘So you decided to wake up early, grab the medical tools, and don an outfit that would surely distract me from the effects of your ministrations?’ Damen teased, not expecting a reply.

‘Yes. We are getting better at understanding each other,’ Laurent said in a mockingly sweet voice and finished bandaging the area. 

Turning to place the tools back, Damen took Laurent’s hand in his own; pulling at it gently. 

‘If you were so concerned about my wound, why did you not stop me last night?’ 

The question—when it came—startled Laurent. Damen watched as his lover contemplated something in his mind, his eyes appearing distant. Damen awaited patiently until the blond locked eyes with him once again. 

‘Because I did not want to think.’

‘This is about the Patran Princess,’ Damen nodded in realization. 

‘It will change things Damen.’ 

‘It will not.’

‘Our relationship will be less valid than it is already in the eyes of the council,’ Laurent pointed out.

‘I do not care for politics, nor how we are perceived by others,’ Damen said with a certainty that had travelled from deep within. ‘For as long as we stay true to each other, nothing else will matter.’

‘You are quick to dismiss this issue.’ Laurent finished attending Damen’s wound and reached into his bag for a roll of clean bandages. ‘And I fear that you will come to regret your carefree outlook sooner rather than later.’ 

Damen frowned at the foreboding words and stared into Laurent’s eyes; those icy blue binoculars that observed everything yet expressed nothing. 

‘I have received word that King Torgeir is on his way to Vere as we speak.’

‘What? We are yet to give him an answer!’ 

‘It is already done.’

Damen tipped his head in confusion. When had Laurent had the time to send a messenger to Patras with their reply to Torgeir’s offer? And even if Laurent had slipped out of the bed in the middle of the night to write to the Patran King, the letter would not reach his hands for weeks. Unless…

‘He already knew the answer.’

Laurent nodded.

‘Torgeir knew that as newly-crowned Kings, neither of us would be foolish enough to send our men into battle after months of arduous work at the borders; we would be at a disadvantage, not to mention the unsettled civilians who would take the chance to protest against our reign if the news of another war breaks out so soon after the coup.’ 

‘So he ordered Torveld to give us a forewarning, before presenting himself at court,’ Damen concluded. 

‘Yes, Torveld’s counsel was just a formality.’ 

‘Is he bringing Jokaste, and—’ Damen paused to compose himself, ‘and my child?’ 

Something in Laurent’s expression shifted at the tremble in Damen’s voice. He made his way towards the bed and sat on the edge; gently beginning to redress the bloody gap.

‘I assume he is, although for the Kyroi and the public to accept your son as the next Akielon heir, they must be convinced that Jokaste was forced to play a part in your brother’s scheme out of fear for the safety of your child.’

Damen covered Laurent’s hand with his own and sighed. Laurent’s hands were soft and cool on his skin. He felt at peace whenever his lover touched him, regardless of the circumstances. 

‘The council cannot know Jokaste attempted to escape to Patras; it’ll attract suspicion,’ said Damen. ‘What we need now is to appear distant, yet on friendly terms with each other.’ The thought of having to pretend to be affectionate towards the person who had broken his heart was disturbing to him. 

Laurent nodded in agreement yet moved to disengage his hand. Instead, Damen grasped the delicate wrist and pressed a firm, reassuring kiss over his pulse. 

Laurent let out a small breath and dropped his hand. ‘I know it must be difficult for you to have Jokaste back in your life—’

‘I loved her.’ It was less of an admission and more of a statement. 

‘I know,’ said Laurent, ‘and I’m sorry.’

Damen’s features softened and he placed a gentle hand on Laurent's cheek, thumbing the corner of his mouth. ‘No, you’re not.’ 

A faint smile graced Laurent’s lips, pushing at Damen’s invasive digit. Laurent appeared soft under the morning light; his sharp features presented themselves to Damen’s wanderlust gaze at new angles. 

‘A messenger from Torgeir arrived this morning and left with one of my own; he will reach the castle in a few hours.’

‘And Jokaste?’

‘I have already informed the council that Jokaste is in the company of the Patran King as per a private agreement brokered between Torveld and I. In order to keep her, and the sole Akielon heir out of harms way, we agreed to send her to Patras upon finding her abandoned in Karthas.’

It was a plausible explanation, one that would satisfy the council’s curiosity and throw off any lingering suspicions against the legitimacy of his lineage. The council would have no qualms about a neighbouring nation being added to the peace treaty. After all, prosperity was only derived from the fruits of a harmonious nation. 

‘Who taught you how to dance?’

The question caught Laurent, who had been running tentative fingers over his tightly bound stomach, off guard. 

‘Your questions are impeccably untimely.’

‘Was it your brother?’

‘In a way.’

Using his arms, Damen scooted closer to Laurent, and—mindful of his injury—situated himself so that his left leg was serving as a backrest to the slighter man’s frame. 

‘Tell me about it?’ He asked hopefully; thirsty for any and all information that would allow Damen a glimpse of his lover’s reserved past. 

Laurent hesitated for only a few seconds, before letting out an exasperated breath. Damen could feel the rigid muscles of the blond’s lower back against his thighs. He could also sense them gradually coming undone as Laurent began to speak. 

‘August once fancied a woman a decade older than himself, and as it was not a traditional courtship, he tried his very best to impress her with generous gifts and gallant behaviour. Wishing to appear mature in her eyes, he sought out private dance lessons from an old, retired mentor.’ 

Damen chuckled, the thought of August relentlessly chasing after a woman of superior intellect and experience resembled his own relationship with the man’s younger sibling. 

‘I can imagine how amused you would have been by the debacle.’

‘I was seething with fury,’ said Laurent in annoyance.

Damen raised an eyebrow and watched Laurent scoff in response.

‘August was my entire world Damen, and when I saw his attention shifting towards someone else, I tried everything in my power to sabotage their relationship.’

‘That was…nice of you,’ said Damen sarcastically. 

‘I was young and more than a little jealous, and by the time I realized the error of my ways, August had become a sullen, moping mess.’ 

‘So you changed your mind.’

‘I sneaked into every ceremony that my father hosted, and I studied the courtiers as they danced around in their own merry. Soon enough, I had learned the traditional ballroom dance on my own, and I took my brother’s hands in my own as I recited every step for him patiently.’ 

Damen gazed at Laurent sadly; the memories appeared to have snatched the young King away from the here, and the now, to a much simpler time…a much happier time where Laurent was but a green child fighting for his brother’s affections.

‘What happened between them?’ Damen swallowed the bitterness that seemed to have gathered in his throat. 

‘August ruffled my hair and ran after his woman; determined to set things right. However, when the two met, the lady shared with him her frustrations towards a certain “blond devil”—as she had called me—who had orchestrated their breakup in the first place.’

‘Was August angry?’

‘Yes, he was.’ 

Damen nodded in understanding before catching the mirthful snicker playing on Laurent’s lips. Of course. 

‘He apologized for any inconvenience he might have caused her, and ended things quickly. Later that afternoon, he bragged about my dancing skills at an evening ceremony and suggested I would dance with all the eligible daughters present…all fifty-two of them.’

Damen laughed at poor Prince Laurent’s demise, forced to charm all the young girls at court with his dancing. 

Laurent shook his head as if to ward off the terrible predicament from his mind. ‘I retired early out of embarrassment, and as I laid in my bed fuming at my brother’s prank, he walked into the room with slow footsteps, and tackled me on the sheets; he whispered: ‘If you did not fancy me fancying her, you should have just said so.’ He proceeded to tickle the life out of me for the remainder of the night.’

The nilly mists of swivelling memories took his young lover to a distant time as a brief silence befell the room. Damen studied the expressions passing through Laurent’s face single-mindedly, searching for a familiar visage that, once discovered, brought out the most appreciative of smiles upon Damen’s lips. 

Raising two fingers, he shifted the hair that rested upon the nape of Laurent’s neck; taking note of how much it had grown in the last months of battle. Beneath the strands, he saw the paling marks of his passion plastered upon unblemished flesh like a promise, and a statement. He traced those marks with the pad of his thumb, all the way to the perturbing collarbone and over the shoulder blade. Laurent’s attention was once again on him, and his eyes no longer held the same hazy quality it had before. A question suddenly poked at his mind.

‘Why did you wear the chiton? We’re at Vere.’

Laurent cocked his head to one side in consideration, before lowering his gaze.

‘Because,’ He paused, ‘because I want to be good to you.’

Damen must have looked confused since Laurent licked his lips and continued: ‘As you know, life has provided me with limited opportunities to learn the duties of… a lover. I do not know much about courtship as I do about seduction.’

‘You don’t—’

‘Let me finish, please. I spent most of my childhood years worshipping my brother, and my adolescent years chasing after the wrong man. I simply wish to show you my gratitude, and other than perhaps dressing in a manner that would please you, I am at a loss; I don’t—’

Any and all further arguments were stifled by Damen’s lips crashing ferociously over Laurent’s.

He kissed, tasted and explored the flesh between his mouth; dragging out the essence of his beloved with his tongue, swirling over soft curves, and slipping in the heated cavern. He bit and soothed; expertly maneuvering his lips over reddened skin and swollen ridges. He paused and conquered. Over and over again, Damen landed his lips upon his lover’s for brief, yet rapid exchanges of saliva mixed with the hotness of their breath; of their passion. He ran firm hands against hard scalp, and gentled them once he reached the golden strands. Angling his face, he deepened the exchange and elicited moans and shivers; signs of content radiating through a hitch in Laurent’s breathing, a sigh among his plunder. 

He tugged at silky hair and chased after a tilted mouth. Palm running over a firm bicep, fingers digging into muscular flank. The kiss was not merely an act of passion; it was an act of commitment. Damen was long gone for the golden foreigner with beautiful eyes and a broken past. Invincible he felt due to an overflowing sense of adoration. Words were not appropriate where actions could speak a thousand words, and Damen was speaking them. 

It was Laurent who pulled away; his entire body emulated a tousled wildness that took Damen’s breath away for a second time. There was a question in his eyes, one that Damen recognized all too well.

‘No need for words,’ said Damen, his voice warm and honey-glazed, ‘I heard you.’ 

Laurent simply nodded and looked away in an attempt to gather his thoughts. When the moment passed, he stood up from the bed and ran slender fingers through his hair.

‘I need to hold a meeting with the council to prepare them for Torgeir’s arrival. Although I’m almost certain that the news of the alliance, and of my marriage, will be nothing but delightful to them.’ 

‘And I must speak with Makedon regarding the new developments; I have a feeling that my decision to wed Jokaste will not be as enthusiastically received among the Kyroi.’

‘Once Jokaste arrives with your child, you must take them to Kingsmeet.’

Damen frowned in confusion. ‘Why the haste? I have plenty to discuss in the upcoming gathering—’

‘There is no time,’ Laurent said as-a-matter-of-factly. ‘You need to marry Jokaste at once; delaying the process will only instigate doubt about the child’s legitimacy. So, unless you plan on taking another wife, I suggest you return to Akielos tomorrow.’ 

Damen released a puff of air he did not know he was holding. It appeared as though his life had been moving at the speed of light, compelling Damen to chase after it in frustration. 

‘You are right. I will officially introduce Jokaste to the Kyroi and we shall set a date for the wedding.’ 

There was much to be done. Not only was he supposed to present Jokaste to his men at Kingsmeet, but he also needed to begin planting among the Kyroi the idea of new trade routes at the border-regions. At least they won’t object to the renewal of the treaty, Damen thought in self-consolation.

‘Very well,’ Laurent said, as some measure of relief graced his features. ‘You, along with Halvik and Torveld are invited to luncheon with the members of the council before Torgier arrives. I shall see you in a few hours?’ 

Damen smiled, ‘Yes.’ 

Laurent nodded; seemingly unsure of what to do now that their conversation was over. It was endearing.

‘What, no farewell kiss?’ Damen teased, not expecting a reply but was taken aback as Laurent carefully considered his request and slowly approached Damen before planting the smallest, faintest peck on Damen’s jawline. He turned on his heels and left the room before Damen could form another thought. 

Not a minute later, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching the room once again as a flustered Laurent appeared before him; closing the doors and leaning against them. 

‘I need to change I…I’m still wearing the chiton,’ mumbled Laurent. 

_Indeed_ , Damen thought, _he is lovely_. 

His meeting with Makedon went as expected; Damen’s captain was strongly against his plans to marry a national traitor and advised against involving himself further into the blooming anonymity between their two neighbouring countries. The intention to add Patras into the peace treaty however, assuaged some of Makedon's inquietudes and Damen promptly informed him of their afternoon plans with the council. 

Later, he went back to his chambers to see yet another elaborate Veretian-Akielonian garment laying atop the fur-clad bed. He didn’t question its origins this time.  
He quickly bathed and tied the laces along his chest and midsection sans the aid of his servants and met up with Makedon, who had been waiting—rather impatiently—behind the door. They made their way to the royal gardens where Laurent had said the luncheon would take place. 

Other than the few clouds in the sky, the weather was perfect for an afternoon spent sampling wine and revelling in the delicacies that were uniquely different from that of his homeland. 

If not for the constant interruptions, Damen thought, he would have asked Laurent for a stroll down the maze-like path. Leading him to the pavilion, they would spend the day touching and tasting each other until their lips bruised and their hands stiffened. 

The two walked towards the pavilion, where a large, rectangular dinning table had been set. Atop it lay a generous assortment of ripe fruit, roasted meats and cooked vegetables. Surrounded by councillors and royalty, the air had a tense quality to it. Damen made a point to maintain eye contact with all the members present before seating himself at the designated spot, marked with his name and title. Makedon took a seat beside him. Damen also noticed Torveld who was sitting across from him. His eyes appeared rather bloodshot; a sign of a sleepless night. 

As per tradition, Laurent was the last to arrive; dressed in a simple white overcoat with golden buttons, he nodded in acknowledgement as all the attendees, including Damen, stood up respectfully. 

‘I thank you for the warm welcome. Councillor Audin,’ Laurent referred to the man who was seated on his left, ‘your presence here is much appreciated. I know you’ve recently been busy with certain…household affairs,’ Laurent recalled pointedly; jabbing at Audin who had recently lost his underage pet to the blond’s cunning schemes. 

‘Yes, well, the council tends to keep busy when serving men such as yourself.’ Audin’s tone was polite, yet Damen’s jaw ticked in irritation at the veiled insult. 

‘Indeed these are trying times,’ Laurent retorted calmly, the amicable facade all too familiar to Damen who had experienced it first-hand. 

‘Prince Torveld, Lady Halvik,’ It was councillor Herode who spoke up in an attempt to change the subject, ‘we are delighted that you could join us.’

Damen watched Halvik smile in agreement and ignored the slight annoyance he felt at being purposely left out of the pleasantries.

‘The pleasure is mine,’ said Torveld. ‘As I am quite fond of Vere and its King.’ 

‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with His Highness' visual appeal now would it?’ Juerre teased. 

Disregarding the objectifying comment, Laurent said, ‘King Damianos must be shrinking in size and stature if he managed to slip past your line of vision.’ This time, he did not bother with the fake politeness. 

Herode’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. 

‘By now, I think we all know exactly how _fond_ King Damianos is of you, Your Highness.’ The brazen words were spoken by none other than Audin, who appeared quite proud of his jab. 

Laurent simply gave a sweet smile as he glared at the insolent councillor; piercing his skull with blue eyes. ‘Oh? How unfortunate, that he has to look so far from his homeland for a pleasant face.’ 

For a brief moment, the room fell silent and Damen felt Makedon’s thigh twitch beside him, attempting to repress his anger.

‘In any case,’ Chelaut said while clearing his throat, ‘I congratulate you, my King, on your engagement to King Torgeir’s one and only daughter.’ 

‘Engagement? How can I already be engaged to someone whose name I know not?’ Laurent asked bemusedly. 

‘Please Chelaut,’ said Audin, ‘You know that His Highness is very… _shy_ around women.’ 

‘He does not seem to be bound by the same hesitancies in King Damianos’ company,' Halvik spoke for the first time. Her remark, while suggestive, did not carry the same derisive bite as the Council’s. 

‘He’s too much of a man,’ said Laurent humorously. ‘My cock has no choice but to rise in competition.’ 

If Damen had been drinking ale at that moment, he would have choked. On his left, He felt Makedon shake with silent laughter. 

‘Regardless of the pace, I know that this marriage will expel the false accusations of your…intimate relationship with the late Prince August,’ said Herode, caution dripping from his tone. 

Damen ground his teeth to prevent himself from snapping at Herode for his ridiculous remarks. It would not aid Laurent’s carefully cultivated image, if another King had to rush in to defend him against his own councillors.

‘Councillor!’ Laurent uttered in mock surprise, ‘You will not have a Queen if you continue to scare my future in-law with such unfavourable prospects! First you allude to impotency, and now incest.’ 

Damen saw Torveld’s brows furrow in what could be either confusion or disgust. 

‘Pleasing a woman is an art Your Highness,’ Audin claimed merrily. ‘We simply wish to pass on to you our personal experience in that field.’ 

‘Oh I certainly doubt your wife is all that pleased if you have to turn to underage pets for comfort, Councillor Audin.’ Laurent’s voice was laced with venom that surfaced whenever August’s name was mentioned. It was becoming clear to the ever-so-cunning Veretian Council, that they had not been kicking a tame cat, but a rabid panther; waiting to feast on its preys. 

Barely half an hour had passed, and no one had signalled for a plate. The council had been insulted, the food had gone cold, and the conversation had died in tension so thick, even the servants looked uncomfortable. 

At the head of the table, sat Laurent with a triumphant smile gracing his face. It was the expression of a man who had played, and won at a game of chess after a long period of abstinence. 

‘Now, does anyone fancy some dessert?’ 

Checkmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, an original character will be introduced ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy! So I'm back for good this time, I promise. I will be updating once a week throughout the summer. I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in reading this, but to those who thought I'd abandoned this story, rest assured that I haven't! I have great plans for our two kings ;)

No one appeared enthusiastic about the variety of hardened confectionary and honeyed delicacies being served around the table. Laurent’s fraught presence was enough to make any gluttonous man abstinent. 

Halvik, a Vaskian woman of simpler traditions, had no interest in gauging the reactions of petty nobles and was delightfully bitting into a particularly creamy clafoutis.

From the two-feet distance that separated their bodies, Damen watched Laurent with a curl in his fists; anxiously anticipating the next round of thinly veiled insults framed as political repartee. 

‘Now that we’re on the subject of wives, shall we expect a rather _eventful_ courting period from you, Your Highness?’ Audin quipped all the while glancing at Damen not-so-subtly.

‘You would be wise not to expect anything from me,’ Laurent said in a cool tone. ‘You know how much I like surprising people.’ 

Before Audin could reply however, a servant entered the pavilion in hurried footsteps. With the raise of Laurent’s delicate finger, he approached the table and bent to whisper in the King’s ear.

‘I’m afraid the details of my prospective marriage must be discussed at a later time.’ Laurent announced tersely before rising. ‘Our guests have arrived.’ 

Dismissing the attendees, Laurent walked away from the pavilion without a second glance at Damen, or anyone else for that matter. 

Damen took mere seconds to instruct Makedon to go check on their men before he was on his feet, following his lover past the council and into the narrow hallways leading to the throne room. 

‘Laurent,’ Damen called out, and when the blond did not stop in his tracks, he gently captured Laurent’s wrist and tugged. 

‘What?’ asked Laurent, sounding impatient, yet allowing Damen to pull him aside and into the nearest corridor. 

‘A courting period? That was not part of the plan.’ While the idea of a marriage of convenience had snuffed Damen’s dreams of one day asking Laurent for his hand, he had not anticipated him having to actually _court_ the woman prior to the ceremony. The sharp sting Damen felt at the preposterous image was all-encompassing.

Laurent looked as though Damen had grown a second head—shocked and disbelieving. ‘You didn’t think that was to be expected?’ A cold chuckle, followed by, ‘this is Vere Damen, nothing is simple.’

‘Don’t pretend like I was the one who talked you into this.’ Damen struggled to keep his voice down. ‘You and I both know that a war is out of the question and you’re not one to be coerced into anything against your will.’ 

It was terrible, how they were arguing. Damen had a notion that this was only the beginning of many squabbles he and Laurent had to overcome in order to be together; to _truly_ be together. A kingdom with twin thrones, befitting that of two Kings. 

‘You’re right,’ Laurent said quietly, as though to himself. ‘I chose this,’ blue eyes met Damen’s own. ‘And now I must see it to the end.’ He smiled, sad yet determined. It hurt Damen to know he was its recipient.

As if his feelings were spoken out loud, Laurent raised a solemn hand to Damen’s face, and Damen leaned into the soft palm heavily. Breaching the small gap between them, their bodies connected at the hips, their knees brushing each other gently. Damen breathed in the familiar scent of Laurent, wild yet comforting, with a hint of soap. 

‘Are you with me, lover?’ Laurent asked, the nickname reminded Damen of a past conversation in a war tent. Laurent had not been like this then, unguarded and inviting. Back then Laurent had rebuilt his walls and refused to let Damen in; afraid of being exposed. 

‘Always,’ Damen whispered back, and meant it with every fibre of his being. 

‘Then trust me.’ The words were simple, yet heavy with meaning; the implications of that request did not escape Damen. He nodded his assent. 

Withdrawing his hand, Laurent passed Damen’s towering form and Damen repressed the urge to clasp it in his own, placing it back where it had been flaying Damen’s skin with its heat. No other words were exchanged between them until they reached the throne room. 

Laurent’s entrance was announced and the doors opened. The first thing Damen noticed was the absence of golden hair and fair skin, distinguishing the woman Damen so desperately sought.

Torveld was standing beside a man Damen recognized from previous trade negotiations as King Torgeir; the two brothers had a definite resemblance to each other in face and stature, with neatly trimmed beards and broad shoulders. Although there was an ever-present warmth on Torveld’s face that the latter seemed to lack. 

‘King Torgeir, what a lovely surprise,’ Laurent quipped with an exaggerated cheeriness as he walked up and held out a hand for the man to shake.

Torgeir clasped Laurent’s hand in his own. He spoke in mildly accented Veretian. ‘I would say the same to you, Your Highness, as a great many surprises seem to have come out of Vere in the past few months.’ 

‘Nothing too shocking I hope?’

‘Nothing too out of the ordinary for this country,’ Torgeir remarked sardonically before turning to Damen. ‘It is a pleasure to make your reacquaintance, Exalted. I recall the last time we met, your royal bloodline had been more or less intact.’ 

Damen smiled tersely in reply and simply said, ‘Change is inevitable. We must all learn to adapt.’ 

‘Indeed,’ Torveld spoke for the first time, his eyes focused on Laurent. The latter pointedly ignored the stare, still sour from the Prince’s recent revelations. 

Before the battle of wits could advance any further, Damen heard a soft clearing of the throat that snapped Torgeir back to reality. ‘My apologies, I almost forgot the main reason we have made this journey. Allow me to introduce my daughter, Princess Eloise.’ 

Torgeir stepped aside to reveal a petite woman with long, auburn hair and skin the colour of warm honey. She was the embodiment of two contrasting traits: flare and sophistication. Damen regarded the entity before him carefully, noticing her eye-catching royal green dress and the red rouge on her lips. Princess Eloise was dressed to impress and judging from the blank expression on Laurent’s face, she had missed her mark. 

‘Greetings Your Highness,’ Eloise’s voice was high pitched yet smooth, a telltale of her young age. She gave Laurent a deep curtsy, flashing the cleft of her bosom in doing so. 

‘Greetings to you, Princess Eloise,’ said Laurent evenly, bowing his head in response.

Eloise turned to greet Damen in the same manner, and Damen noticed her smile deepen slightly as she faced him. 

Once the pleasantries were over with, Laurent appeared eager to cut their conversation short. ‘I would offer to show you around the palace, however you all seem tired from your journey so I shall have my servants escort you to your rooms along with your belongings.’ 

All three guests nodded enthusiastically. ‘I’ll also have a feast prepared in your honour,’ said Laurent. ‘Now I understand this may not be the most opportune time, yet I must ask for the whereabouts of Lady Jokaste and her child.’ 

‘Oh yes, do forgive me for not mentioning this earlier, both parties are safe and well cared for,’ Torgeir reassured, ‘I’ll have my most trusted envoys escort them to Ios as soon as we conclude our…negotiations here.’ 

The connotations of that statement did not escape Damen; if Laurent agreed to wed his daughter, the Patran King would see to it that Jokaste and the Akielon heir would return to Akielos safely. 

For a moment Damen contemplated challenging Torgeir to a duel and “accidentally” ending his pathetic life on his sword. Unfortunately, it would be against Damen’s code of honour, and he would hate to give Torveld a reason to strike first. 

‘Thank you for your consideration,’ Damen eventually said, deciding to continue the discussion after the feast. 

Laurent called for his servants who hurried in and began guiding the guests away from the room. Princess Eloise glanced back at the two of them curiously before falling in step with the rest.

Once they were alone, Laurent called for Jord who seemed to have been stationed by the door. 

Damen noticed the absence of dark circles under the man’s eyes and smiled; the short break from his duties must have restored some of his depleted energy. 

‘You called for me your Highness?’ 

‘Jord, I want you to assign your most trusted men to guard the doors to our guests’ chambers. They are to report whatever is overheard, as well as any unusual activity back to me.’ 

‘You wish to spy on them?’ 

‘Isn’t that obvious?’ Laurent’s tone was impatient. 

‘In light of King Torgeir’s association with Lady Jokaste, I suggest exercising caution. We do not want to start a war.’ 

‘Then I suggest you see to it that you are not caught.’ 

Jord sighed and bowed his assent. Damen heard the Captain mumbling, ‘I only worry for your safety,’ on his way out.

‘I know,’ Laurent responded quietly, although Jord had been too far to have heard his words. 

‘You can just say you’ve forgiven him you know?’ Damen chided lightly.

‘And make him think that I actually have a heart? That wouldn’t do.’ Laurent’s downcast eyes betrayed the nonchalant air he was exuding.

‘But he already knows that,’ said Damen, bringing two solemn fingers to the slighter man’s chin, tilting it up. ‘That’s why he stays,’ his voice sounded awfully enamoured in his own ears, and also to Laurent’s if the slow fluttering of his eyes were any indication. 

‘Exalted King Damianos.’ 

At the mention of his full name and title, Damen turned to identify the speaker, and had to look down to see a lithe form with a nest of light brown hair bent on the floor before his feet. The last time Damen had seen the young man, he had been telling Damen about his fears of travelling to Patras, claiming that despite his apprehension, he quite liked his master’s eyes. 

‘Rise Erasmus,’ Damen said warmly, and when the boy did not comply, Damen gently took hold of his right arm and pulled up. 

‘This slave is beneath your attention,’ said Erasmus in a barely audible voice. 

‘I beg to differ,’ said Damen. ‘As far as I recall, you showed me kindness in a foreign land without a single idea as to who I was. I won’t forget that.’

Damen watched fondly as Erasmus blushed, and slowly lifted his eyes, meeting Damen’s own. ‘I—I was trained for _you_ Exalted, in Akielos I mean.’ 

‘You were,’ Damen confirmed. Less than a year ago, Damen would not have hesitated to take Erasmus to his bed, enjoying his timid charms to the fullest. Yet, Damen was no longer the same man, and slaves did little but disturb him in their absolute submission. Damen’s heart throbbed for the slaves still serving in Patras; sadly, they were no longer his to free. 

‘Despite everything, I am grateful,’ said Erasmus, ‘that fate allowed us to meet in a different circumstance. I was given the chance to be of help to my King, and I met my master as a result.’ 

Hearing the bold admission, Damen’s eyes widened in surprise, and his chest filled with pride for the boy. Erasmus was transitioning from a scarred and unconfident slave to a well-spoken lad. 

‘I trust that Prince Torveld has been treating you well then?’ Laurent spoke for the first time since encountering the slave.

Erasmus paid obeisance before responding, ‘Yes, Your Highness, and it is all due to your helpful advice. The other slaves are also fairing well, thanks to your benevolence.’ 

‘I appreciate the good news Erasmus,’ said Laurent. ‘If you’re ever in need of something, don’t hesitate to seek me out.’ 

‘Your kindness is immeasurable,’ Erasmus simply stated, and once again turned to Damen, ‘I am elated that you have found your true love, Exalted.’ And with that, Erasmus bowed and took his leave. 

The words hung in the air as Damen came to the realization that he was yet to tell Laurent the three important words that were so often exchanged between lovers. 

He opened his mouth to say it, and closed it; wanting to find a less mundane occasion to profess his love.

‘I need to find Vannes and discuss our next move.’ Laurent’s cool voice snapped Damen out of his thoughts and he found himself grabbing Laurent’s wrist for the second time that day.

‘What?’ The words sounded impatient, _Laurent_ was always so impatient. 

‘Stay,’ said Damen, and when Laurent raised an eyebrow at his request, he began drawing soft circles on the delicate palm of his lover’s hand. ‘If I am to leave tonight, I want to spend as much time with you as possible.’ 

Laurent exhaled visibly, ‘I suppose we have a few hours before presenting ourselves at the feast. I’ve already instructed the servants this morning.’ 

‘Perfect, what do you have in mind?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I want this to be about you,’ said Damen, ‘I want to see you relaxed and content.’ 

Laurent scoffed, ‘Right, as if I am capable of that.’

‘You are,’ Damen argued, ‘I’ve seen that look on your face exactly twice: once when we were being chased on the rooftops at Nesson-Eloy, and a second time when I watched you come awake in my arms after our first night at Ravenel.’ 

‘You have an impressive memory for a brute,’ Laurent retorted, his jaw taut with the idea of Damen observing him so closely. 

‘So,’ Damen brought Laurent’s hand to his lips, speaking through the delicate fingers, ‘Where shall we go?’ 

Damen watched Laurent give the question some thought, and saw his eyes sparkle with something akin to excitement.

‘I know a place.’

 

Damen thought of many places in the vicinity of the palace suitable for a quiet, intimate afternoon. The library however, had not been at the forefront of his mind. 

Although in hindsight, the library _was_ the first place Damen would associate with his intelligent lover. 

‘I’m sure you were imagining something more exciting,’ Laurent said as he moved from one bookshelf to another with a small skip to his footsteps. Damen couldn’t help but chuckle happily at the sight. 

‘Oh believe me, just the sight of you so relaxed and in your element satisfies me.’ 

‘You are very easy to please.’ Laurent’s voice had an unsteady quality to it and Damen quickened his pace to catch a glimpse of a lovely blush colouring the younger man’s cheeks. 

Laurent quickly composed himself and ran his hands through a particularly crowded shelf. It was stacked to the brim with books. After closer inspection, Damen noticed they were written in Akielon. Laurent finally selected a small, leather-bound book and waved it in Damen’s face.

‘This is…’

‘A book I had been reading before my uncle gifted you to me. It’s about a glorified war hero, quite popular with the common folks, but a bit of a hedonist if you ask me.’ 

Damen frowned in confusion, unsure of what to do with that information. 

Laurent rolled his eyes at Damen’s apparent lack of clarity and simply said, ‘It’s about you, Damen.’ 

Damen felt his eyes go comically large and Laurent chuckled, making his way to the lounging area at the centre of the room and seating himself on a small divan.

‘Oh don’t act so surprised. I’ve already told you about my obsession with Damianos the Prince Killer. You were all I thought about.’ 

Damen fought not to wince at the nickname and moved to sit himself down beside Laurent. Instead, Laurent grasped his hand and turned him around so he was settled behind Laurent, his chest anchoring the younger man’s back. 

Damen sighed in contentment and circled his lover’s waist with both arms, resting his palm over Laurent’s ribs.

‘Who’s the author?’

‘A common man looking to make an easy buck I assume. I went through quite the trouble to acquire this.’

‘And all so you could hate me a little more,’ Damen grumbled grudgingly.

‘Now don’t pout,’ Laurent chided, stretching his legs and resting the book on his stomach. ‘Look, it describes you as though you are the mighty Zeus himself.’

‘That is no compliment,’ Damen argued, ‘Zeus is said to have been a rabid lover with mood swings.’ 

‘Quite unlike Damnianos.’

Damen jabbed a finger against the hard planes of Laurent’s stomach in retorsion, ‘I will have you know, that I was neither overzealous or moody as a lover!’ 

‘It says here that there was a Gladiator from Isthima who had lasted all but twelve minutes against you, and that you had given him the time of his life after.’

Damen groaned and buried his nose against the crook of Laurent’s neck. His reputation had come back to taunt him once again.

‘And your point is?’

‘I lasted more than twelve minutes fighting against you not too long ago,’ Laurent simply stated, a challenge in his voice.

The insinuation hit Damen like a warm tide and he felt himself stirring. Laurent must have felt the increased pressure at his back because in the next moment, he tilted his head up to meet Damen’s eyes. 

‘So what does that give me?’ Laurent asked quietly, intimately. His breath was hitting Damen’s face as they looked at each other openly.

Damen closed the few inches between their faces, and just before moving to capture Laurent’s lips in his own, he whispered, ‘A lifetime.’ 

They kissed like the very first time on the battlements at Ravenel, slowly and tenderly. Damen gave small nibbles to the corners of Laurent’s mouth, delighting at the way it opened for him in want. His hands that had been resting on Laurent’s ribs were roaming his chest freely, fiddling with the laces there. 

He untied them with the precision of an experienced slave. Laurent captured Damen’s bottom lip in his and pulled, eliciting a gasp from Damen who bit at the younger man’s chin in response. 

The laces were finally undone and the jacket loosened, allowing Damen to pull it off and away until his lover was left in an undershirt. He dipped his palms underneath the thin fabric and traced the lines of Laurent’s muscles. Laurent shivered, and lifted a hand behind him to bury in Damen’s curly hair.

Damen placed open mouthed kisses on Laurent’s cheeks and smiled at the way Laurent squirmed under his touch. Moving his face down to the juncture between jaw and neck, Damen licked at the sensitive pulse point. Laurent’s breath hitched, his grip tightening in Damen’s hair, heating Damen’s skin with want. 

Damen ventured further, dipping his nose underneath the white shirt and allowing his teeth to slightly graze Laurent’s protruding collarbone, the fine skin at the bridge of his neck and shoulders. Laurent was now panting, visibly flustered at Damen’s gentle touch. He craned his neck enough to press a solemn kiss at the dip of Damen’s throat. Damen felt lightheaded.

He then moved one hand to tease the delicate nubs on Laurent’s chest, circling one with his thumb while his other slowly caressed Laurent’s cheek. Laurent surpassed a moan which came out as a whimper instead. Kissing the sound out of Laurent’s lips, Damen gave the younger man’s bottom lip kitten licks; the soft flesh swollen and red from the force of their passion. 

Nothing in his life had ever felt as good as Laurent’s body felt against his, and Damen found himself calling in on a herculean effort to stop himself from taking Laurent right then and there, on the divan in a library, where anyone could walk in and interrupt them. 

No, Laurent deserved better than that. So with a final peck on his lips, Damen disengaged himself and stood on unsteady legs, his arousal almost painful beneath his pants.

Laurent’s surprise at the sudden change was evident, as if unconsciously, he brought a single finger to his fine neck where Damen’s lips had been and rubbed. 

‘Why did you stop?’

If Laurent could see himself, swollen lips and pristine skin peeking from underneath his loose shirt, he wouldn't be asking such a question. 

‘Laurent you look…’ _Ravishing_ Damen wanted to say, but didn’t in case it would be unpleasant to the blond. ‘If I don’t stop now, I’d want more.’

‘And that is a problem?’ Laurent, the picture of grace and sophistication was sprawled on the divan, his jacket discarded and the laces of his shirt undone. He was undone and Damen had made him so.

For some inexplicable reason, Damen felt too much, too fast. It was as though his body couldn’t contain the whirlwind of emotions going through his mind. 

Almost a month ago, he had been riding to Ios with the thought of Laurent’s body hanging from a rope, executed for fabricated crimes at his uncle’s command. Now that they were both in Vere, it was on borrowed time before he left for Kingsmeet to receive his laurel and announce his intention to marry Jokaste. Laurent would stay and actually court the Patran Princess before following suit and asking for the woman’s hand. They would not meet until the new peace treaty was to be signed, presumably in Marlas. That was a month away at the least. 

Damen felt his chest constrict and his breath come out short. The reality of their situation was now catching up to him, and Damen was not sure he could deal with it. 

He had been so focused on preventing a war from breaking out the night of Laurent’s coronation, that he had not paused to really think about the ramifications of their choices. 

Damen had been too content with having Laurent back in arms that he had pushed the impending loneliness he was to suffer away. He had always been one to live in the moment and act on his instincts.

Yet, ever since he’d met Laurent, it was as though his past and future had closed in on him, leaving him in a constant state of worry. 

‘Damen?’ Laurent now sounded less annoyed and more concerned. Damen found himself incapable of articulating what he felt, so he simply said, ‘I just want to hold you for now, please?’ 

Something in his voice must have been translated because in the next moment, Damen felt his hand being pulled, and he complied, sitting next to Laurent and gazing at the man, no longer aroused. 

‘Regret not backing me up on that war?’ Laurent’s words were not malicious or sarcastic, yet they stung and Damen couldn’t help but sigh helplessly.

‘Oh for heaven’s sake, stop moping.’ Laurent moved to look at Damen properly, holding his face in both hands not too gently.

‘You were right and I was wrong,’ said Laurent. The admission was jarring as the man rarely ever confessed to his own faults. ‘I’m no victim and neither are you, we are breaking the rules here Damen, we have a plan.’

A plan to unify their kingdoms and rule them as one, a plan to wake together and go to sleep together for the rest of their lives. Damen nodded, yet he remained unconvinced.

‘No two kings of rivalling nations have been bold enough to have a public relationship _and_ rule their kingdoms as one,’ Laurent went on, ‘we will accomplish _both_.’

‘Have two kings of rival nations ever wed?’ Damen asked quietly.

‘No,’ said Laurent. ‘That is why we must not get ahead of ourselves. We will play our hands and wait for the next move. Torgeir cannot make me lay with her if he thinks I’m sterile.’ 

‘I can’t stand not seeing you for extended periods of time.’ Damen knew he was being childish, that it was beneath a king to whine and throw a fit but he could not help it. Laurent meant too much to him.

‘I have a way to remedy that.’ Laurent withdrew his hands and Damen missed their warmth instantly. 

‘After the Patran delegates leave, I plan on holding a three-months-long series of tournaments between our men at Marlas. Under the guise of political affiliation, we will encourage our people—common folks and nobles—to join the sports.’

Damen nodded his understanding. Already familiar with the inner workings of Laurent’s mind, it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. 

‘This will accomplish two things: speed up the process of social integration, and provide me with an opportunity.’

‘To fall off a horse,’ Damen confirmed.

‘To fall off a horse,’ Laurent repeated. ‘How do you feel about the name: The Confederate of Akielos-Vere? 

‘I like it well enough,’ said Damen, shifting his body until his head was resting on Laurent’s lap. Laurent seemed quite affected by the change in position and he held himself very still, unused to the typical way that lovers lounged. 

‘If you caress my hair, I can promise you I will purr,’ Damen challenged cheekily, already feeling better at the thought of spending three full months beside Laurent, uninterrupted. 

Laurent could not have looked any more out of his element, but he slowly relaxed at Damen’s teasing and began running his fingers through Damen’s hair. 

Damen let out a satisfied sound and closed his eyes at the gentle touch. ‘Is that what we shall call our joint kingdom?’

‘Yes, and we’re starting at Delpha.’ 

At the mention of Delpha, Damen’s attention peaked, and Laurent began to explain.

It later occurred to Damen, that Laurent was not merely thinking five steps ahead, he had—as a matter of fact—conquered the game. 

If Laurent’s plans went smoothly, in a month’s time, they would both be married. After the news of their recent unions died down, they would meet at Marlas to sign the treaty between Patras and their respective nations.

Once celebrations were over, they would hold the tournaments, during which Laurent would stage an accident and the doctors would announce him sterile. 

Bedridden and gravely injured, Laurent would order the capital to be moved to Marlas and while people busied themselves with renovating the palace and strengthening their defences, Laurent would propose an offer: the newly restored Veretian state of Delpheur to become a free state of commerce between Akielos and Vere, supervised by delegates of both nations.

Formerly the symbol of Vere’s greatest defeat and Akielos’s victory, and recently the symbol of Vere’s leverage over Akielos, it was best to transform the ill-reputed state to a place where men were free to trade and socialize, to mingle and exist as though their countries had never been at war. 

The confederate of Akielos-Vere would embody their goodwill and intention for long-lasting peace, bearing the banners of their two nations side by side. 

In a year’s time, they would announce their desire to unify their kingdoms, and the same transformations would apply to the entirety of their lands. 

Damen would name their heir after Vere’s fallen hero, and Laurent would continue to placate Patras with Princess Eloise as his wife. 

‘I suppose Nikandros would be less bitter,’ said Damen, ‘after discovering that giving up his position as Kyros of Delpha had not merely served to feed your ego.’

‘He’s to be named Kyros of Ios in two days!’ Laurent rebutted, ‘It’s _his_ ego that will require tampering.’ 

Nikandros had gone to Delpha to meet with Veretian delegates to officially resign himself as Kyros, and to settle his personal affairs. Laurent did not see it necessary to assign a lord to his new fort, as it would soon become a neutral state.

‘I did not hear your purring,’ Laurent mentioned offhandedly, but did not stop playing with Damen’s curls, taking them between his fingers, and messing with their shape.

‘Do you feel cheated?’

‘ _Very_.’ Laurent brought his face closer to emphasize his point, and Damen took the opportunity to peck him on the nose, grinning in triumph as Laurent blinked rapidly, stunned by the sneaky act.

‘What do you think of Princess Eloise?’ Laurent finally asked.

‘Don’t change the subject!’

‘I’m curious. Do you find her attractive?’

‘I suppose she is beautiful, but she is not my type.’ Damen did not wish to think of Laurent’s future wife.

‘I agree, she seemed far too agreeable to be your type,’ Laurent’s smug smile made Damen chuckle heartily. ‘Not serpentine enough,’ Laurent added.

Damen lifted his fingers from where he was lying on Laurent’s lap and clasped the back of the younger man’s neck, looking into his eyes. ‘She’s not you.’ 

For a few seconds, time stood. Laurent stared down at him with something indiscernible in his eyes, and Damen responded with a look of open adoration. The magic was broken however, when they heard a knock on the door. Damen rose to his feet while Laurent remained seated. 

‘Apologies for the disruption Your Highness, but the guests are to arrive shortly to the feast.’ It was Lazar’s voice as usual, and before Laurent could respond with a bitting remark, Pallas’ voice was heard: ‘You are also expected to attend, Exalted.’ 

_How did they know that he and Laurent were together?_ Damen assumed they had been stealthy enough, although there was no real reason to hide.

‘I don’t recall giving your lover permission to guard my doors alongside you, Lazar!’ Laurent shot back with an amused expression.

‘And I don’t recall— _Umph_.’ Lazar’s witty retort was cut short by what sounded like a kick to the gut. The guards at Akielos were much more polite, Damen concluded proudly.

‘Please take him back to Akielos and teach him some manners when you leave,’ Laurent pleaded and Damen shook his head. ‘He’ll just be chasing after Pallas in Ios.’

‘Judging from the state of things between our Kings, I’m sure we will be seeing each other often,’ came the suggestive response from Lazar. 

Laurent walked rapidly to the doors and opened them in a swift motion, making both guards jump in surprise. Laurent leaned closer. ‘Do you wish to be beheaded?’

Damen couldn’t see Laurent’s face from where he was standing, but he could guess it was rather menacing since both guards gave a quick bow and disappeared out of sight. 

‘That was easy,’ Laurent said with a satisfied tone, and Damen was about kiss the villainous smile away when he saw Huet lightly tap on the door. 

Having not seen the soldier who sided with him at Charcy for a while, Damen went to greet him, and Laurent moved past them, telling Damen not to take too long. 

And Damen didn’t. Spotting Laurent in the hallways after he and Huet had exchanged brief words, Damen ran to catch up to his lover, noticing that the laces of his right boot had come undone in the frenzy of their passion.

Damen called out to Laurent and kneeled down when Laurent turned, taking the laces in his hand and pulling them through the eyelets before tying them at the top. 

He looked up to see Laurent smiling at him. A youthful, gentle smile, and Damen was about to say something endearing, before he heard a startled gasp.

Turning his head, Damen saw the entire Patran royal family standing a few feet away, observing them with a mixture of horror and disbelief. 

Damen knew what their positions implied, the King of a proud nation on his knees for the green, young King of the rivalling nation. 

Damen looked at Princess Eloise, and noted that her expression resembled someone whose husband had been caught with his pants down, rather than an untied shoelace. 

Damen was not looking forward to the feast.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'd like to thank those who left comments/kudos! It got me super hyped, so I wrote faster. I also wanted to address that this is NOT a cheating/threesome/polyamory fic. Lamen WILL be together, but that doesn't mean there won't be any angst/drama along the way ;)

‘Your Highness! Fancy meeting you here.’ Surprisingly, it was Eloise who recovered first, approaching Laurent with brisk steps. ‘Would you require assistance getting up Exalted? 

Damen shook his head and got to his feet, sensing the Princess’ discomfort at what she had witnessed.

Eloise stood a few inches away from Laurent, sounding overly enthusiastic. ‘Did you have a pleasant afternoon?’

‘Rather uneventful,’ said Laurent, moving past Eloise and walking in the direction of the grand hall with the rest of the guests following suit. ‘I was giving King Damianos a private show—’ 

Damen heard a second round of horrified gasps coming from the guests. 

‘—of the royal library.’ 

A unanimous sigh of relief. 

_This is ridiculous_ Damen thought, at this rate Laurent was very likely to provoke someone to draw their sword.

Damen slowed his steps to match with Eloise, wanting to get a better look at Laurent’s future wife. Eloise’s hair was a tumble of wavy, red locks, framing her face and hiding the look of utter embarrassment colouring her distinct features.

It was rather sad. Damen found himself asking: ‘Are the bedchambers to your liking?’

Her head snapped up, and she smiled warmly at Damen. ‘Oh I could sleep anywhere really. Once, my brothers pulled a prank on me by making me sleep in the baths—’

‘ _Eloise_ ,’ Torgier abruptly warned. 

‘Yes, they're quite comfortable,’ was all she ended up saying. 

It was clear that King Torgeir kept a tight rein on his daughter. Despite the circumstances, and what Eloise’s presence at Vere meant, Damen felt a tinge of sympathy for the young woman. She was, in all sense of the word, exuberant and spirited. 

Damen found it disheartening to see anyone have to stifle their passion in the name of propriety. 

Any further conversation was cut short as they reached the grand hall. Laurent waited for the squires to announce his entrance, and they all walked in. 

Damen’s senses were immediately attacked by a variety of smells and sounds coming from the crowded dinning room. 

The area had been redecorated to accommodate twelve large tables to Damen’s count; each connecting to the other to form a hollow, rectangular shape. 

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Laurent in a sharp voice, immediately silencing the ongoing chatter. 'I’d like you to help me in welcoming our honourable guests from Patras: King Torgeir, Prince Torveld, and Princess Eloise.’ 

The crowd of attendants cheered loudly in response, and Damen saw several familiar faces raise their glasses in salut.

The Patran royalty thanked Laurent for his hospitality, and moved to sit at the largest table placed at the very end of the hall.

Damen walked around to take his seat on Laurent’s right side, as Torgier and his brother occupied the latter’s left respectively. Eloise sat beside Damen. 

Dozens of servants were passing each other by in the middle of the room, refilling drinks and setting new plates in front of the guests. 

The party, Damen noted, had a jovial atmosphere as Laurent’s coronation had attracted a number of beautiful guests to the Veretian court. 

After a few moments of silently partaking in the rich assortment of sweetmeats, fruit, and cheese on the table—none of which Laurent touched, Damen heard the music take a more upbeat tone. A few of the younger courtiers were already swaying to the tunes.

‘Veretian music for me, has always been a mystery,’ said Torveld. ‘It has such a blustering presentation, yet somehow manages to maintain its flow.’ 

‘Indeed,’ Torgeir agreed, then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, he looked to his daughter whose plate—to Damen’s astonishment—was also left untouched.

‘Eloise, why don't you show His Highness some of your dance moves,’ the Patran King suggested. ‘My daughter has been learning your traditional dance for quite some time now.’ 

‘How delightful,’ Laurent said in the same monotone voice he often used to address his squires.

Eloise blushed slightly, but quickly recovered. She leaned into the table to properly see Laurent’s face, as it was partially blocked by Damen’s huge physique. ‘Would you like to join me?’

‘Perhaps another time,’ said Laurent, and Damen knew that it really meant _never_. 

Eloise simply nodded and went to join the small group of dancers, effortlessly falling in step with the rest, and performing complex twists and skips with a natural shake to her hips. 

She was an amazing dancer, Damen quickly concluded, and unlike her demure front, dancing seemed to bring out an almost fiery side of her personality. 

‘Liking what you see?’ Laurent asked, and Damen spared a quick glance at Torgeir to see him engaged in a heated conversation about the advantages of Patran weaponry with Makedon.

‘I am now,’ Damen replied, and nudged Laurent’s knee with his own under the table. 

‘She dances awfully well for a posh princess.’

‘And I still lack the body type, and the basic skills for such a fine activity,’ Damen admitted ruefully.

‘You could ask her to give you lessons.’

Damen moved in closer until his mouth was a few centimetres away from touching Laurent’s ear, ‘I’d rather get them from you, in private.’

Laurent drew back slightly, but the corners of his mouth lifted upwards at the thought. ‘You would be a mess, stepping on my toes until I’d require a cane to walk.’ 

‘Or I could just carry you,’ Damen suggested with mirth, expecting an acerbic reply. 

‘Yes, you could put me on your shoulders, and I’d have you walk me around my palace to conduct the affairs of the state from higher ground.’ 

Damen laughed at the preposterous image before saying, ‘Strangely, I would be okay with that.’ 

Laurent rolled his eyes, ‘Only _you_ would be.’ 

Before Damen could reply, Makedon had moved to take Eloise’s spot as the Princess was still dancing, this time with a much larger crowd. The two Patran royalties could be overheard comparing the effect of their country’s ale to that of Vask's with Vannes. 

‘I believe I am still owed a hunting trip with you, Your Highness,’ Makedon said, fake disappointment colouring his words.

‘Greetings Makedon,’ said Laurent. Damen noted that his Captain had been the second man that night to receive a genuine smile from the blond. Damen almost felt jealous. ‘I admit that I’ve been a little preoccupied. Would you like to play a game with me instead?’

Makedon took a sip from his mug and leaned in closer. ‘I’m listening.’

Laurent simply nodded in the direction of a small group of middle-aged men standing across the hall with their drinks in their hands. Damen assumed they were the lords of smaller forts. 

‘Which one of those three men do you think is the easiest target in a fight?’ Laurent asked Makedon.

‘It’s not a game if you know the answer,’ the Captain pointed out.

‘I only know their rank and status. I have never observed them in combat.’

Makedon hummed in contemplation before making his analysis. ‘That one,’ he pointed to the shortest of the three, ‘is the easiest target.’ 

‘Lord Armel of Varenne,’ Laurent confirmed while smiling, as if pleased with the answer. 

‘His height obviously puts him at a disadvantage,’ Makedon explained. ‘Aside from that, he’s also thinly built and is yet to drink his ale—that indicates a low tolerance.’ 

‘The one on Armel’s left,’ Makedon continued, ‘is the second easiest target.’ The Captain was referring to a relatively tall man, seemingly a few years younger than the rest. 

‘He has a walking cane, and while that may put him at a disadvantage in an actual battle, it is very useful in close combat against unsuspecting attackers,’ Makedon said confidently. ‘The curl of its handle is sharp enough to pierce through skin.’

‘His name is Lord Edgard of Barbin,’ supplied Laurent, nodding in acquiescence. ‘The last one is Lord Clovis of Lys; his province shares a border with Vask. Clovis is well trained, and has the build of a warrior despite his age.’ 

Makedon shook his head in disagreement. ‘He’s well trained, but he’s only as useful as Edgard in a battle.’ He then pointed towards the man in question and said, ‘Look at the way he’s handling his mug, balancing it in his right palm.’

‘He’s left-handed,’ Laurent answered.

‘No, his left hand is weak due to an injury, possibly one sustained from a Vaskian Falchion,’ Makedon corrected, and Damen was only slightly surprised that his own Captain had managed to outsmart Laurent in his observations. Makedon was a seasoned warrior, such physical tells of weakness would never escape him. 

‘That’s a keen observation,’ Laurent simply said, and Damen could detect the smallest hint of disappointment in them. 

‘It’s something you pick up after years of wrestling,’ Damen explained softly.

Makedon slapped Laurent on the back in consolation. ‘You know, I could teach you.’

‘That wouldn’t be necessary,’ said Damen, immediately shutting down the idea. The thought of Laurent naked and gleaming with exertion under some Akielon wrestler was enough to inspire violent tendencies in Damen. He would pity anyone deciding to volunteer to put Laurent on his back in the sand. 

‘And why is that?’ Makedon asked in genuine curiosity. It occurred to Damen, that he wasn’t the only Akielon out there who lacked perceptiveness.

‘Your King likes to have the upper hand,’ Laurent remarked, fully aware of what he was insinuating. ‘Yet I keep proving myself a challenge.’ Unsurprisingly, that comment also flew over Makedon’s head.

‘Our King always comes out on top,’ Makedon scratched his chin in consideration. ‘But perhaps with practice, you too could top your partner.’ 

‘I’d love that.’ 

‘Makedon, I think Lydos has some Vaskian ale he’d like to share with you,’ Damen said, unamused by the turn in their conversation. He pointed towards the poor man who was quietly sipping on his completely Veretian drink.

‘Why, I ought to teach that boy a lesson,’ Makedon all but growled, paying obeisance promptly before making his way to his unsuspecting prey. 

‘What was that?’ Damen asked in mild annoyance, wanting to take Laurent somewhere quiet, away from prying eyes.

‘Just showing interest in your country’s traditional sport,’ Laurent said cooly. 

‘You’re not actually considering taking up wrestling,’ Damen wanted to ask, but it came out as a statement. 

‘What, afraid I would surpass you?’ 

If Laurent wanted to play games, Damen would too. ‘Afraid you’d snap your delicate wrists.’

Laurent simply looked at Damen, and as Damen began to wonder if he should expect a comeback for his audacity, Laurent picked up a small morsel of meat and swiftly brought it to Damen’s lips. Taken off-guard, Damen ate the offered food from Laurent’s fingers before realizing what had transpired. 

It was somewhat remarkable—Damen thought—that despite everything that had passed between them, Laurent still managed to remain a cunning snake. 

Damen slowly chewed the sweetmeat without breaking eye contact with Laurent. Distantly, he heard the scandalized whispers of those who had been in the vicinity of their table to witness the King of Vere hand-feed the King Akielos as if he were a docile pet. 

‘Crafty aren’t you?’ asked Damen, and he felt the edges of an emotion bubbling in his stomach that was quite contrary to what he should've been feeling.

‘You don’t seem to mind,’ Laurent pointed out, his eyes passing over Damen suggestively, as if daring him to make the next move.

Damen was aware of the people watching them, scrutinizing them. He could feel Torgeir shooting daggers with his eyes, but—as usual—he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, Damen picked up a single grape from the silver plate before him and held it in front of Laurent, the fruit almost touching his full lips. 

Damen saw that Laurent was holding himself very still, and it reminded him of the time when he had presented the blond with a golden cuff, one matching his own. Laurent had looked the same then—tense but not unwilling. 

Finally, Laurent opened his mouth and took the plump fruit between his lips; they brushed against Damen’s fingers—as if he were kissing them—and Damen repressed a shiver, wanting to swipe his tongue over the soft skin. 

The music was still playing, but the chatter had died down noticeably as the guests were now far more interested in observing the intimate activities taking place between the two Kings and rumoured lovers.’

‘Everyone is looking,’ Laurent stated, and Damen noticed that at some point, they had shifted closer to each other, like two magnets drawn to one another despite the space separating them.

‘ _Let them_ ,’ Damen heard himself say, and found that he could not see anything else in that room other than Laurent—Laurent with his brilliant mind and poisonous tongue, the same man whom Damen had the privilege to hold every night. 

‘Of course you wouldn’t, the death stares are all for me. I can almost hear Audin chanting an exorcism my way,’ Laurent’s voice brought Damen out of his reveries.

‘You get all the wanton pinning, and the desperate swooning, even in my own damned court.’ 

‘Jealous?’

‘Of course not,’ Laurent looked appalled by the prospect. And then, in the sultriest voice possible he said, ‘They cannot possibly take your breadth like I can.’ 

The air around Damen suddenly felt too hot, even breathing was a challenge. 

‘Did you mean my shoulders?’ Damen finally asked, trying to prolong the banter, the impossible push and pull of words with Laurent that drove him absolutely crazy and left him desperate for more. 

‘Is that how you heard it?’ The arch of Laurent’s brow suggested he believed otherwise. 

‘I bet I can throw you over my shoulder and make a run for it.’ 

‘Not unless you want crisscrossed marks on your back.’  

‘I think I'll take my chances.’ Damen _knew_ he was shamelessly flirting, in public, at a feast thrown in honour of Patras and Laurent’s future wife.

‘Stupid,’ was all Laurent ended up replying. 

‘Worth it.’ That earned Damen a helpless scoff. 

He wasn’t aware of his hand lifting to cup Laurent’s cheek until he heard her say, ‘Exalted?’

Damen’s head snapped around to look at Eloise, standing before them with a pitcher of ale, looking sweaty and out of breath due to a long interval of dancing. 

‘Princess Eloise,’ Laurent replied instead. ‘Back already?’ 

Eloise swallowed visibly, and Damen winced—for the second time that night—at his lover’s lack of regard for others. 

‘You danced beautifully out there,’ Damen said out of courtesy; he felt Laurent’s eyes on him. 

‘You are too kind Exalted,’ replied the Patran Princess, dismissing the compliment. ‘Shall I refill your drinks?’ 

‘Damianos would appreciate that,’ Laurent’s voice was crisp. ‘His throat must be parched from all the flattery.’ 

While Damen gave Laurent an exasperated look, Eloise poured the dark liquid into Damen’s mug. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Of course you don’t,’ Eloise berated herself, ‘I didn't exactly leave a good impression on you…last time we met.’

Damen frowned at what the Princess was implying, and he allowed his mind to wander to a different point in time—a time filled with childish bantering and tentative words of reconciliation. Flashes of red hair appeared before Damen’s eyes, images of him chasing smaller footsteps in the sand, a girl twirling by the beach, memories of shinny seashells and amused giggles. 

Damen could not conceal the shock and utter disbelief in his voice.

‘Little Loise?'


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a few weeks to type this one as more of Eloise's character is revealed. Things are going to get more complicated for Lamen from here on out ;) Thanks for the comments & Kudos as always.

On account of his recent overexposure to unsettling truths, Damen did not fall backwards in his chair as he watched Eloise’s features morph into something akin to hope after having heard her nickname.

Damen was finding the melodic sounds of flutes and violins harder to discern against the unsteady thrumming in his own ears. He opened his mouth to ask something, _anything_ , but eventually settled for gaping at the woman some more. 

‘How—’ When he had finally found the ability to speak, it was Laurent’s voice—sharp as a bell—that cut through.

‘This is all so very interesting that I must insist we continue elsewhere.’ Laurent glanced at Torgeir who was observing the three of them from a short distance. ‘Perhaps over a private tour of our gardens?’ 

Eloise seemed to have gathered her wits about her as she briskly turned to approach her father, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. Whatever was said earned her a disapproving look that was soon directed at Laurent. 

‘I understand you wish to show our daughter the gardens.’ Torgeir looked as any young maiden’s father would in a similar situation: doubtful and mildly apprehensive. ‘That would not be acceptable unless a chaperone accompanies you.’

‘King Damianos has kindly agreed to take on such a role,’ said Laurent. ‘You see, he’s a bit of a nature enthusiast.’ 

Torgeir did not look convinced, so Damen added, ‘I hear the flowers are very beautiful this time of the year.’ 

The Patran King sighed in resignation. ’Very well, I suppose it would be beneficial for the two of you to spend some time together before the wedding.’ 

Damen was sure he was not the only one able to see Laurent’s smile for the contemptuous sneer it truly was. 

Laurent briefly ordered the servants to supply their guests with more wine before raising his own untouched goblet to the attendees in salut. He then instructed Jord to remain with Torgeir and his brother in case they decided to interrupt them. Damen gave his own orders to Makedon, and the three of them quietly slipped out of the party. 

Not too long after, they found themselves in the gardens, alone and without the presence of any courtiers. 

‘I see you lied about the flowers,’ Eloise commented casually, as if to break the uneasy silence. ‘They haven’t even bloomed completely.’

‘It was an excuse to speak to you alone.’ 

‘Would either of you care to explain exactly how you are acquainted?’ Damen saw Laurent’s crossed arms and the uneasy set of his shoulders. He felt a stab of guilt for not having been forthright with him, which was ridiculous as he had only just found out himself. 

‘Almsot eleven years ago, my father travelled to Akielos to strike a more beneficial trading deal with King Theomedes,’ Eloise began to explain. ‘At the time, I was only sixteen and hated the thought of being used as a pawn to improve our countries’ political relations. You see, my father had high hopes that I would be able to catch the attention of young Prince Damianos, and be promised to him for a future marriage.’

Damen watched Laurent force down his reaction to Eloise’s words before asking, ‘Are you telling me that you and King Damianos were once engaged?’

‘No—’

‘No of course not,’ Eloise let out an amused sound. ‘If that were the case, he would have remembered me. I was just the strong-headed girl who kicked the Crown Prince in his…private regions and ran away hoping that it would dissuade my father from proposing an official courtship.’ 

‘Let me guess,’ Laurent said acerbically. ‘It spurred Damianos on instead?’ 

Eloise gave him a strange look. ‘No, my actions worked quite well actually, the next day my father gave me a stern talk about brining shame to my family and I was sent back on a ship to Patras by the end of the visit, never to return to Akielos again.’

Damen squirmed uncomfortably as Laurent took a few steps forward, getting into Eloise’s space. His superior height casting a shadow over her small frame. He looked down at her with his blue, calculative eyes. ‘But that’s not the whole story is it? I can’t imagine Damianos calling you _Little Loise_ if all you did was kick him in the balls.’ 

‘I helped her a few times after that,’ Damen intercepted, knowing how prickly Laurent could get if properly motivated. ‘Kastor soon heard about the incident and needless to say, her brazen behaviour piqued his interest.’

‘It was unintentional,’ Eloise supplied quickly. 

Damen nodded. ‘After some unwanted advancements towards her, Eloise yelled at my brother in front of all the courtiers which later turned into the hottest of gossips. I happened to overhear.’

‘From then on, King Damianos silently accompanied me throughout the palace, coming to my defence whenever others spoke ill of me.’ Eloise summarized in a carefully neutral tone. 

‘We formed a brief, tentative friendship afterwards,’ Damen concluded, hoping Laurent would drop the subject entirely. It was not as though he had anything to hide, but the fact that he had not been able to recall the red haired woman immediately could be misinterpreted as an intentional attempt at concealing the truth.

‘I see,’ said Laurent, rubbing his chin with his thumb. ‘And if the two of you were so well matched, why didn’t your father proceed with his plans for your betrothal?’

‘My father thought my behaviour inappropriate,’ said Eloise; eyes pinned to the floor in blatant embarrassment. ‘He caught me kicking dirt at Damianos by the beach with my skirt hoisted up to my knees once, and decided to wait until I came of age, hoping some extra years spent taking lessons and practicing the duties of a good wife would be enough to stifle my fiery temper.’  

It was the first time Eloise had referred to Damen without his title, and Laurent looked decidedly irritated. Despite their initial quarrel, Damen had fond memories with the young woman, and felt pity for her unfavourable circumstance. Yet, the part of him that was selfish and wholly territorial wanted nothing more than to dismiss her, so that he could whisk Laurent away from the stuffy palace, and into open fields where they could spend their last few hours watching the stars, tangled in each other’s arms. 

‘—and by the time my father saw that I was fit for marriage, news that you’d begun courting Lady Jokaste had spread and plans to have me hitched to Akielos' heir were gradually discarded.’ 

‘Then you decided to try your luck with Vere.’ 

Damen cringed. Laurent could be so insensitive. Despite the obvious jab, Eloise laughed and said, ‘You’re quite right, although this marriage is entirely my father’s wish.’

‘And what is yours exactly?’ Laurent pressed, ‘Do you wish to marry a different king?’ _The king of Akielos for example_ , was left unsaid. 

An uncomfortable silence ensued.  

‘Princess Eloise—’ Damen started. 

‘Eloise is fine.’

‘Eloise, given our circumstances, I’d like for us to have a proper conversation.’ He gestured towards the pavilion, ‘Would you like to sit down?’ 

If Laurent’s uncharacteristically quiet demure was any indication, the conversation was going to be anything but proper. 

Once inside, Damen strategically positioned himself between the two as they sat down on a particularly large divan. The pavilion was spacious, with arches of red and white climbing roses surrounding them on either side; their smell too heavy for Damen’s liking.

‘I’m sure that by now you know that my relationship with King Damianos extends far beyond mere camaraderie.’ Laurent said those words factually, leaving no room for misinterpretation. 

‘Straight to the point, I admire that.’ 

Laurent simply stared at her purposefully. 

‘It does not take an intellectual to realize that what the two of you have is special, and exclusive. Lady Jokaste told us as much.’

‘Jokaste told you about us?’ Damen could not believe the absurdity of their situation. It was a small world indeed.

‘She did not speak to me directly about anything, but my father gave me the gist of it. He hoped that with this marriage, I could win His Highness’ heart. He always does.’ The admission was a quiet one, sounding prematurely defeated. 

‘Then if you’ve heard Jokaste’s story, you must know what befell Damianos after his brother’s coup, and how the two of us met,’ Laurent said impatiently. 

She nodded, her expression careful, as if a wrong move could invite further animosity.

‘Then you must also know of the history between my country and his.’ Laurent leaned closer to stare directly into Eloise eyes. ‘How the Akielon Prince slayed my brother, leading to my uncle later forcing my deposal and taking control of Vere.’

‘Yes, I—’

Laurent did not let her speak. His voice was firm and raising by the second. ‘Then surely if you have a modicum of sense, you’ll know that if killing my brother and causing my entire life to spiral out of control did not deter me from loving him, nothing—in fact— _nothing_ ever will.’

Damen felt his heart knock against his chest, felt his stomach flutter with a sensation so raw that it sent his entire body aflame. Laurent had just admitted to _loving_ Damen out loud. His actions may have indicated as much, yet it was another thing to hear the younger man say those words so boldly, and so full of surety. 

He took in the sight of his lover, his stark blue eyes wide with the intensity of his words, the force with which he had uttered them. His chest was heaving, as if he too could barely contain his emotions; could barely prevent them from coming out of him all messy and incredibly loud. Torgeir would know. Vere would know.

‘Laurent,’ Damen heard himself say, and watched his lover slowly turn towards him, meeting Damen’s eyes fully and unabashedly. The only sign of the man’s discomfort were in his hands that had fisted themselves over his knees, turning his knuckles white.

‘ _Laurent_ ,’ he called out again. Laurent’s features gradually softened, and he let out a visible breath Damen suspected he’d been holding.

‘That’s what I said.’

They were drawn back to reality at the sound of Eloise’s voice. She was standing before them, and Damen realized he hadn’t noticed her move.

‘I told my father that my future husband’s lover is Damianos of Akielos, the man who rose through the ranks in your army despite being a captive slave. The man who—albeit your resentment of him—stood by you, went to war for you, gifted you a part of his own land, and killed for you on sacred grounds.’ 

Damen studied Eloise’s expression as she spoke of his feats. There were no traces of jealousy or mockery in them, she was simply recounting what was true. 

‘Your point is?’ asked Laurent, once again sounding impatient.

‘I know I don’t stand a chance against him for His Highness’ affections.’

‘Then call off the wedding.’ Damen rose to his feet and gently placed his hands on Eloise’s shoulders. Her eyes widened fractionally. ‘Tell your father you cannot go through with a loveless marriage. He can’t start a war if his daughter is the one to back out of our agreement.’

Eloise let out a humourless laugh, the effect of it rippling through Damen’s arms by extension. ‘You are indeed as pure-hearted as I recall Exlated.’ She moved a step back to disengage herself politely. 

‘My father is a keen follower of tradition. To him, love is a rare consequence of marriage, not a condition.’

Damen opened his mouth to argue.

‘Even if I spend the rest of my days alone and unloved beside King Laurent, he would consider it a necessary sacrifice and pay it no mind.’

Damen let out a frustrated groan and turned around to face Laurent. He hadn’t bothered moving from his comfortable position on the divan.

‘How would you rate your acting skills?’ 

_Where is he going with this?_ Damen thought. Laurent’s question had been so out of place that it took Eloise a few seconds to reply. ‘I would say I am capable of putting on a show, given that it doesn’t last too long.’ 

‘Perfect,’ was all Laurent said. Damen refrained from questioning him if only to put out a united front. 

‘Thank you for your honesty Princess. We’ll leave the talk about the wedding and everything that comes after for a later time.’ He extended a hand to Eloise, which she took, and began to lead her back to the entrance. ‘For now, you may tell your family that you reached a fruitful agreement with us in lieu of your father, and that Lady Jokaste and her child are to be escorted to Kingsmeet as soon as Damianos departs Vere.’

It was obvious from her congested expression that the princess had more to say, and more to ask. Yet she simply curtsied at Laurent, before reassuring Damen that her father will honour his end of their bargain.

They both watched her retreating back, and once she was out of sight, Laurent said, ‘Torgeir only has one daughter.’

‘I am aware,’ Damen sighed. ‘But I only remembered her tonight. We had met over the course of one summer…it was a long time ago.’ It sounded like an excuse, but it was the truth.

Laurent simply shrugged. ‘I guess I don’t have to worry about you paying too much attention to her if she’s that unmemorable.’ 

‘Why did you ask about Eloise’s acting skills?’

‘Trust me, you’ll know in due time.’ 

Damen decided not to push the matter; he knew Laurent had a plan, and he trusted him. 

‘I won’t be there when you marry her.’ The words hurt as he said them. It was a marriage of convenience, a charade to appease those who doubted their reigns. Laurent would hold her hands and pledge his life to her in front of his nation. But Damen was the man Laurent returned to, the man he’d laugh with, share his innermost thoughts with. The man he’d make love with.

‘Neither will I, when you marry Jokaste.’ 

‘You said you loved me.’

‘So? Did it come as a shock to you?’ 

‘Say it again.’ 

Damen watched as Laurent struggled with himself mentally, his eyes darting from one spot to another, as though battling with opposing impulses.

‘I don’t see how that’s neces—'

Damen did not need to hear the rest. He answered by pulling Laurent to his chest, sliding his fingers into the silky strands of Laurent’s nape. His mouth captured full lips, tracing the perfect shape of them with his tongue. Laurent opened to him eagerly, allowing Damen the pleasure of exploring the heated cavern more thoroughly.

‘I love you too Laurent,’ Damen whispered and felt Laurent’s body jolt against him in surprise. Instead of pulling away, Laurent tilted his face even higher, encouraging Damen to pepper the soft expanse of skin with feather-light kisses. Some landed on Laurent’s lips while others edged towards the corners of his mouth, his fine cheekbones, and his sensitive pulse that crescendoed underneath heated fingertips.

Laurent breathed against his chest, his hands grasping both of Damen’s shoulders as though he wasn't sure he could support his own weight. ‘Say that again.’ 

Damen sighed, ‘I love you so much.’ He couldn't stop. Now that Laurent had admitted to loving him, now that what they felt for each other had been verbalized so openly, Damen found it even harder to pull back. To physically put himself thousands of miles away from Laurent, where he couldn't touch him at will, taste his skin in the quiet hours before dawn, and feel his breath brush against his face as he came awake in his arms would be hell on earth. 

Damen would spend long days feeling the absence of Laurent’s jarring words whenever he took people apart with his brilliant mind, and he’d be alone at night, running his palm over sheets that were meant to hold the perfect shape of his lover’s body. 

‘Damen,’ Laurent called out his name softly, like a prayer, and Damen responded by murmuring words of praise in Akielon between open-mouthed kisses placed over Laurent’s forehead.

He held Laurent’s face in his hands and locked eyes with him. They were glossy under the soft touch of moonlight, like the ocean, or a well. Damen closed his eyes and allowed himself a brief interval of reminiscence.

‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ said Laurent, sounding slightly out of breath.

‘My father always used to tell me a story about how he’d broken into song in the short moments before removing my mother’s veil on the night of their wedding.’

‘Are you implying that this is a marriage?’ the undulated mirth in Laurent’s voice was intoxicating. ‘Or that you wish to sing me a song right now?’

‘I wouldn’t sing you a song,’ Damen said warmly, running his thumb over the sharp line of Laurent’s jaw, ‘I’d read you a sonnet; one of my own creation.’

‘Oh?’ Laurent lifted a fine brow, ‘And what would this sonnet say?’

Before Damen could respond, he heard footsteps approaching the pavilion, and took a step back regretfully, retracting the hand that had just been caressing Laurent’s face.

‘Exalted, I’m afraid it’s time to leave Arles. The men have already packed and are ready to ride at your order,’ said Makedon, who was back in his armour and standing before them with a sense of urgency colouring his features.

Leave us alone, he wanted to say. Allow me this, allow me him. But he couldn’t shirk his responsibilities any longer. If they wanted to reach Kingsmeet on time, they had to follow the schedule.

‘Very well Captain, lead the way.’

 

Half an hour later, Damen was at the gates again, his belongings packed and his men waiting for him on horseback. From the corner of his eye, he could detect Pallas exchanging rueful looks with Lazar who stood directly behind Laurent, raising his hand in a solemn wave goodbye. 

He quickly said his goodbyes to Jord, Lazar, Huet and the rest of Laurent’s personal guard, and then moved to shake hands with the Patran royalty. ‘It was a pleasure spending time with you and your lovely family King Torgeir,’ said Damen.

‘Likewise, Exalted Damianos,’ Torgeir replied. ‘I’m sure we will see each other very soon.’

_Hopefully not too soon_ , Damen thought.

He nodded at Torveld in silent farewell, and pressed a quick kiss to the back of Eloise’s hand. 

‘Until we meet again, Princess.’ 

She smiled brightly at him. ‘Safe travels King Damianos.’ Thankfully, she hadn't forgotten to address him by his title this time.

Finally, he reached Laurent. Standing before him with a stoic expression, Laurent’s face bore no emotion. Tight laces covered the length of both his arms, and over his neck. He looked as impeccable as the first time Damen had laid eyes on him. The only thing off with Laurent’s pristine picture of self-composure was the slightly red tint on his lips, a telltale sign of the passion he’d shared with Damen in the gardens; of how he’d allowed Damen to slide in deeper, to kiss and hold him in ways that no one else could ever dream of. Cool and impenetrable Laurent kept letting him in; It was a privilege Damen did not take for granted. 

‘Our brother of Akielos, I thank you for honouring us with your attendance at our coronation,’ said Laurent, and extended his hand.

‘The honour was all mine,’ Damen responded automatically, and held on to Laurent’s hand for a beat longer than necessary. Contrary to everything else about him, Laurent’s hands were warm. Damen made himself let go before the gesture became too personal.

‘Be safe,’ was the last thing Laurent said before ordering the guards to open the gates. Damen slowly backed away, his eyes never leaving Laurent’s even as he mounted his horse, and signalled his men to ride out.

At the very last moment, right before he turned around to take full charge of his group, Damen saw Laurent’s lips move in a soundless whisper. He could barely make the shape of it with the speed he was riding, but if his instincts were anything to go by, Laurent had carefully mouthed: ‘I love you.’ 

Once the grassy terrain gave way to much harder soil and sharper rocks, and once the flying starburst flags atop the towers of Arles were out of sight, Damen allowed himself to think of what laid ahead. He thought of receiving his laurel as King, of being able to hold his child for the first time. Finally, he thought of Jokaste.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm gathering that punctuality is not really my thing, my excuse is that I'm studying for my graduate entrance exams! Instead, this chapter is longer than the rest XD Next chapter will be all fluff and smut. Thank you for all your reviews, please do come scream at me on my brand new CP blog ;)

The ride to Marches had felt faster this time, perhaps for the lack of any awaiting company on the other side. Having to go the opposite way of where Laurent had undoubtedly been squabbling over the council and their hefty demands was no easy feat. Laurent would never admit it, but Damen knew his presence had a calming effect on the man.

As it turned out, Damen had more eminent problems to worry about. The first one presented itself on their way to the docks of Atros, when Damen had felt the distinct smell of something metallic before looking down to see the unmistakable redness of blood seep through his chiton. 

Sent into a frenzy, his men had insisted he laid down until they hit shore, before searching for an unsuspecting local physician who had mended the King’s wound with shaking hands. Damen had seen to it that he was paid handsomely, before mounting his horse once again, much to his retinue’s dismay. 

After half a day of exclusive riding, he had reached Ios. Halfway through the gates, Nikandros had appeared to inform him that Jokaste’s carriage had reached the palace not too long ago, and that the Lady had made it explicit that she needed to rest without any disruptions. 

‘She’s not coming to Kingsmeet,’ Nikandros had said, his voice holding that familiar note of exasperation reserved for Damen’s blond counterparts. 

‘Did you see the baby?’

And Nikandros had replied that yes, he had seen the baby, and that he was undoubtedly Damen’s offspring—if looks were any indication.

‘She said whether a marriage takes place or not is inconsequential to her, hence you may say to the Kyroi whatever you please.’

Having been given permission to discuss their inevitable marriage, Damen had ridden to Kingsmeet along with Nikandros and a small retinue; allowing Jokaste to soothe her wounded pride in peace. He would have plenty of time to spend with his child soon.

This time, there had been no need to announce his purpose at the gates, they had opened for him in welcome, and he had been greeted by the same white-cloaked man who—not too long ago—had put a sash around his neck and warned him not to strike any blows within the sacred walls of Kignsmeet. 

The long, winding halls had looked the same, so had the sentries; except that they were not. The halls were made to look brighter—less stifled perhaps—in anticipation of the resurrected King’s arrival. The soldiers had bowed in silent respect, and doors had opened for him, leading to the grand hall where the Kyros of every province sat in waiting. 

After receiving a litany of well-meaning commendations for his return, Nikandros had been promptly appointed as the official Kyros of Ios. The room had filled with cheers for the commander whose honest conduct had always afforded him the highest of regards. The new Kyros had taken to one knee in order to receive his pin and pledge his loyalty to their country and crown. 

Damen’s own coronation had followed, and while it was simply a formality, he couldn't stop the spark of self-assurance from dancing low in his gut; allowing him to feel important, alive and in control once again. 

Once the ceremony was over, they had gathered around the table for discussions. With the weight of his laurel reminding him of the precariousness of his new role, Damen’s first words had been to situate Vere in a favourable light before the Kyroi. 

‘I return at a time during which peace is desperately sought after, and I can say with a happy heart that our brother of Vere seeks the same.’ At the sight of his men’s doubtful looks, he had gone to say, ‘This is the time of recuperation and solidarity, and what better way to ensure that than to re-sign the peace treaty among our nations, and celebrate our bond by holding a series of sports tournaments at Marlas?’ 

After a brief back and forth exchange of opinions, all members stood in agreement. 

‘We need to once again restore people’s hope in our rule. My wedding with Lady Jokaste will remedy that, and my son will finally be presented to the masses as the future heir to the Akielon throne.’

His announcement to join Akielos’ renowned traitor in a sacred matrimony elicited far more protests than his former wishes to renew their treaty with Vere.

In her defence, Damen had explained, ‘Jokaste valiantly curried favour with my brother in order for my life to be spared. She also guarded my child despite a great risk to her own safety, and was sent to Patras on my order for her own protection.’ And that was enough to assuage the worst of the nay sayers.

Later, they had discussed the conditions of the new treaty, and the consequences of breaking its terms, as previously negotiated with Laurent. They had also touched on a solid plan of action against border disputes, an appropriate punishment of fifty lashes for village raiders, and finally a permit of entry across borders for Veretian merchants and tradesmen with proper identification. Lastly, the price of copper and silk were unanimously decided to be too high in Akielos after their King’s disappearance, and had to be matched with prices in Patras to allow for better business transactions.

‘There have been rumours,’ Argus, Kyros of Kesus had mentioned during their discussions, ‘that Exalted has turned away the service of all slaves in Ios.’ 

When he had begun broaching the subject of banning slavery across the land, the sun had had already descended into the horizon. It had dawned on Damen that the meeting was most likely going to extend well into the night. 

The Kyroi had of course opposed. Slamming the table with their fists and talking over each other. Only two out of seven commanders had concurred and even then, the backlash Damen had received for the suggestion had been vigorous. It was really a misfortune for his men, that Damen had gained—from his regular tête-à-têtes with Laurent—no shortage of patience.

He had stood his ground, used his own experience during enslavement as a tool to inspire obedience, and only compromised when it became clear that his demand could not be pushed any further. The Kyroi had relented once Nikandros suggested Akielos to take up Vere’s pet culture. Finally, it was decided that anyone with the financial disposition would be allowed to obtain sexual favours, given that the subject in question was willing, well-paid, and no less than 16 years of age. 

Damen had come out of that meeting with a wedding date set in three weeks time, as well as a new law that recognized people’s autonomy as a basic right, and prohibited any forms of enslavement across the country.The majority of the Kyroi had been shocked into submission, not quite believing that a prince who had been declared deceased only a few months prior could return from the den of Veretian serpents mostly intact, and more assured than ever in his own birthright. 

‘He’s like a phoenix risen from the ashes,’ someone had whispered to Nikandros, and he’d taken it all in stride. 

When the meeting was finally over, there had been no reason to dally. With Makedon waiting for him by the gates, Damen had swiftly jumped back on his saddle and returned palace in record time. 

‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ Nikandros had reassured once they had reached the doors to Jokaste’s room. She had been assigned the former Queen’s bedchambers in consideration of her future role as the Queen Mother. For the first time in his adult life, Damen had feared a confrontation, and desperately grasped at the few moments of solitude before having to walk in; bridging the gap between kinghood and fatherhood. 

Once inside, Damen had frozen. Jokaste had been sitting on the bed with a bundle in her arms, and for a moment it had felt like an alternative reality, one that could have been possible, had the woman before him remained his; loyal to the end. 

It would have been the two of them, along with their child. They would have been happy. 

‘Hello Damen,’ she had said.

He would have been happy but not fulfilled, nor completed. He wouldn't have met Laurent.

‘No response? I recall you being more charming.’ 

If one were to only look at the outward appearance, Jokaste looked healthy—happy even—considering the long journey. Just like Laurent, Jokaste would put up a front, but quite unlike Laurent, Jokaste’s front would never go down. 

‘And I don’t recall you ever asking for permission before exposing my private affairs to the nearest kingdom.’ 

‘Always so easily scorned,’ she had concluded, holding against her chest the bundle of blankets that undoubtedly covered their baby. ‘Tell me, how is our little poupeé du jour?’ 

‘You have no right to speak of him that way.’ 

Jokaste had thrown her head back and laughed, the sound just as condescending as her words. ‘This is why I like you Damen! You’re so predictable. Here I am, holding your little spawn in my arms, and yet you defend the honour of that ghastly virgin before me.’ 

Damen had felt anger rise in him, and felt it repressed beneath the tight clench of his firsts. ‘Hold your tongue, Jokaste. I’m warning you.’ 

‘Although, only the Gods know how many times he’s actually been fucked into the mat—’

‘Nikandros!’ he had yelled, and his friend had reappeared before him, eyes filled with disdain towards the woman. No further words had been needed. After forcibly removing the child from Jokaste’s arms, Nikandros had followed Damen to the doors. 

Jokaste had struggled at first, then remained unnaturally still; watching Nikandros walk away with her newborn. 

‘You’re now under house arrest,’ Damen had announced vengefully, and the woman had simply glared at him. ‘Don’t expect to be out until our wedding day.’ 

Jokaste’s eyes had widened then. 

‘You wouldn’t—’

‘Oh I would, and I just did.’ And just before the doors had closed behind him, he had said, ‘Wouldn’t want to be too predictable now would we?’ 

 

Two weeks had passed since the moment he’d left Jokaste sitting agasp on the bed. Throughout those twenty-one days, the palace had spun around itself trying to make ends meet. Preparations for presenting the new heir had been done in a maddening pace and news of the King’s upcoming wedding had spread across all provinces in less then a day. Damen had conducted his son’s initiation ceremony with a kind of hesitant enthusiasm that came with his fast evolving role from a celibate man to a father.

Now, he was standing in his veranda with Auguste held tightly in his arms, his small head resting against Damen’s chest, allowing for the rhythmic beats of his heart to lull the infant to sleep. It had taken Damen days to get used to the feeling of touching something so fragile beneath his hands. Feeding him had been out of the question, and Nikandros had taken upon himself to act as a liaison between them; delivering the child to his mother for breastfeeding, and bringing him back to Damen after an hour of personal time. 

‘I didn’t make you Kyros of Ios so that you could play the role of a common handmaid you know,’ Damen would joke, and his friend would roll his eyes, admitting that he’d rather take up the task himself than to watch Damen constantly defending Laurent’s honour in front of Jokaste. 

‘It’s like claiming that a serpent is not as serpentine as another serpent!’ 

‘I though you like Laurent now,’ Damen would argue, to which Nikandros would shout back, ‘In comparison to the other blond fiend, yes!’

His days had not been entirely peaceful however, as the gruelling meetings with the Kyros and Jokaste’s incessant complaints over her temporary house arrest often led Damen away from the buzzing activities, and into the quiet of his own chambers. Jokaste had of course protested against their child being a namesake of the late Prince Auguste, but in one of the rare intervals of civility seldom shared between the two, she had murmured, ‘I suppose it’s for the best. Naming him after your own dead brother would’ve been awkward.’ Her words had been devoid of the usual sarcasm.

The small movement in his arms snapped him out of his thoughts and he quickly went inside, closing the doors behind him. He gently placed Auguste inside his cradle, his heart soaring at the way his son’s hands reached up to grasp his finger, squeezing it with all his might. Damen murmured sweet little nothings to him, rocking the cradle back and forth until the hold relaxed and sleep once again took him over.

Once Auguste’s breathing evened out, Damen let out a relieved breath and went to his bed. Before he could lay down however, he heard Lydos announce, ‘Exalted Damianos, Pallas requests an audience with you.’ 

At the mention of Pallas’ name, Damen sprinted to the door and yanked it open, making the other guards jump in surprise. He took Pallas by the arm and pulled him inside, ordering the doors shut. 

‘Exalted—’

‘Where is it?’ Damen asked, slightly delirious with equal parts of hope and fear.

‘Where is…’

‘The letter, Pallas! What did he say?’ 

He watched the man’s face morph into something akin to pity. Damen’s body recoiled.

‘I’m sorry.’ 

That was the final straw, he snapped his head so quickly that it gave him a whiplash; he ran frantic fingers through his curled hair and pulled, eliciting a painful distraction. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Laurent was supposed to write to him every day.

‘Are you sure he read my letter?’ 

‘I don’t know. I never know,’ Pallas admitted quietly. ‘Lazar takes the letters and dismisses me at the gates.’

‘He’s your lover! You must have heard something.’ 

‘He—’ Pallas made himself pause, the look of hesitation on his face scared Damen more than anything. ‘I don’t think the King wants you to be privy of his affairs.’

The truth in those words shocked Damen into silence. This was the third time that Pallas had returned to him empty handed, the third time that Laurent had received his letters—the solemn piece of paper marred with carefully printed words in practiced Veretian—and had sent no words in reply. Three weeks of blatant ignorance had made the message clear: Laurent didn’t want to talk.

‘I don’t even know if he’s already married,’ Damen said quietly, the admission felt like daggers plunging in his throat, making it hard to speak. He couldn’t stand being in the dark, he’d had enough of that when Jokaste and his brother had colluded behind his back. If he and Laurent were to build a kingdom together, something had to change, starting with the secrecy. 

He dismissed Pallas shortly after that, not wanting him to bear witness to his meltdown any further. That night, he didn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, thinking about Laurent, thinking about his blue eyes and sharp nose, his taut jawline and slender waist; he went over his lover’s image over and over again, trying to recall every single part of him in great detail. He conjured the most perfect image of the man in his head only to tear at him, to push and shove the arrogance out of him. 

He imagined wrapping his hands around Laurent’s neck—that beautiful neck marked by a single blemishing kiss—and realized that even in the confines of his own imagination, Damen couldn’t hurt Laurent. Instead, he thought of those hands brushing silky strands away, of his lips finding Laurent’s in a searing kiss that left him breathless with the spark of it.

That’s when he loosened the strings of his cotton pants and took himself in his hands, palms slick with his own saliva. He thought about Laurent’s face, the way it would contort in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his body gave way for Damen’s taking, the way his thighs had parted for him on the night of his coronation, and how he’d moved on top of him. Finally, Damen thought about the morning after, of Laurent dressed in a chiton for his feasting eyes. He squeezed the head of his cock one last time, giving it a few rough tugs before he was coming, white hot release coating his fingers and cooling on his skin. After his breathing evened, he rolled onto his stomach and allowed sleep to take over. He left his palm outstretched on the mattress beside him and pretended he wasn’t as alone as he felt.

The wedding was nothing short of grand. It was attended by all the important people from all the right places, minus the Patrans who were undoubtedly preoccupied with a wedding of their own, and Laurent himself, the one person who could've made the long and tedious days leading up to the event less hellish for Damen. As tradition demanded, Jokaste was to be sent to her family’s household on the first day of the ritual as a rite of passage to wifehood. Given that she had no next of kin except for an old grandfather living on the western borders of Thrace, she remained at Ios and pestered Damen with her trademark comments. 

Jokaste’s parents—greedy merchants with strong connections—had sent their daughter to be presented at Theomedes’ court at a very young age, hoping she would catch the attention of someone noteworthy and set them up for life. Little had they known that after a few short years, she’d find herself at the center of Akielos’ battle for the throne.  
On the second day, Jokaste was given her nuptial bath at the natural springs of Heros. Damen was informed that the groom is strictly forbidden from participating in the purification ceremony and for that, he was grateful. Later, Jokaste traveled to a nearby temple with her attendants to pray to the Gods for a fertile marriage.

‘Don’t worry, I only prayed for a full vault and more rain,’ she said on the third day, taking an obvious jab at their ridiculous situation before changing her expression to that of a love-stricken maiden about to have her veil removed by her beloved. Damen could not meet her eyes as he took off the veil, exposing her milky skin and golden mane to their spectators. 

Jokaste’s grandfather had—to everyone’s surprise—shown up for the unveiling. He took his granddaughter’s hand in his own and shakily pressed it to Damen’s waiting palm. ‘I always knew she was destined for great things,’ her grandfather had said, ‘now she has you.’ 

The man was oblivious to everything and neither him, nor Jokaste were willing to burst his bubble; he left the ceremony shortly after to ‘close a deal on antique vases back home,’ as he had put it, and Jokaste was alone once again. She didn’t seem affected by it, and it occurred to Damen that maybe, she had taught herself to remain unaffected. The entire charade made Damen feel sick to his stomach, but he swallowed the bile down and smiled, he held hands with her and thanked the guests for their well-wishes. 

They took their customary vows and fed each other an assortment of ceremonial figs, dried nuts and berries—a collection of natural aphrodisiacs meant to enhance their sexual drive. Shortly after, four servants escorted them to a private room specially prepared to host the consummation of their union; their son was to remain in the care of Jokaste’s attendants overnight. 

Nikandros gave him the most reassuring nod he could muster, and closed the door behind him; it put Damen at ease knowing that his closest companion stood right outside the door. Not that he needed any protection against unwanted advancements. Jokaste ignored the scattered rose petals and the scented candles surrounding the bed, and instead sat herself down on the floor by the open veranda. She looked out to the sky without saying much, and Damen joined her on the opposite side; they remained silent for a long time. 

‘I’d imagined this you know?’ 

‘Imagined what?’

‘What it would be like to marry you,’ she replied, her tone almost wistful. 

‘Did you also imagine what it’d be like to completely destroy me before you went through with it?’ Damen couldn’t help but bite back.

Her pretty face crumbled at that, and Damen took a small pleasure in seeing how his words affected her, knowing that not much else could. 

‘Fine, stay angry at me forever Damen,’ she threw a dismissive hand in the air. ‘It won’t change what happened. I was trying to protect you.’

‘Protect me? You almost killed me!’ Damen struggled to keep his voice down. The people on the other side of the doors expected shouts of another nature. 

‘You were an arrogant boy with the world at your feet,’ Jokaste shot back, ‘Nikandros couldn’t manage to convince you of your brother’s schemes, I didn’t expect you to listen to me.’ 

‘I would have.’ There was doubt in his voice. It made her smile, sadly.

‘You loved your brother more than you loved me. There was nothing I could've said that would've changed your mind.’ 

‘And the alternative was shipping me off to Vere as a slave?’ The leap in thought sounded ridiculous. 

‘You were oblivious, your brother was well-prepared, and I was scared,’ she admitted calmly, as if she’d been practicing the excuses she’d give him when the time came. ‘It was the only way to ensure your life.’ 

Damen bent forward so that she could hear the clarity of his words. ‘You sided with my brother out of fear, and out of ambition. Don’t paint yourself as the victim of this story.’ 

‘Oh I am no victim,’ she said, and looked away, denying him her eyes. ‘But I saved myself so that I could in turn, save you. Forgive me if I didn’t wish to die beside you.’ 

Damen sighed and leant back, closing his eyes in hopes of quelling the anger bubbling in his chest. ‘I can’t forgive you, not yet.’

And jokaste nodded. Slowly, she stretched out her legs so that they lay parallel to Damen’s folded thighs, her feet almost touched his sides. ‘Well, perhaps one day you will.’ 

Damen pushed himself off the floor and stood, towering over Jokaste’s small frame. The activities of the day suddenly dawned on him, making his shoulders slack with exhaustion. ‘I’m going to sleep on the divan,’ he announced, and went to pull out one of the many sheets from the bed, along with a pillow.

‘Afraid I’ll jump you while you sleep?’ Jokaste tried for humour. 

‘No, I just miss Laurent.’ That killed any attempts at polite conversation on Jokaste’s part, and soon enough the two settled into their respective beds without a sound interrupting their silence. Damen fell asleep thinking of rooftop chases and vows of love made by the lilac trees. And he dreamt. In his dreams, Laurent wrote him back.

 

  
‘Damen, wake up.’

Damen groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow to protect himself from the sudden flood of light that came from Nikandros pushing the curtains open. 

‘Go wake Jokaste instead,’ he whined, hoping to buy himself some extra sleeping time.

‘She left to check on the baby, now wake up.’

Damen made another protesting sound, and was about to tackle Nikandros onto the bed before he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat. 

He opened his eyes to see Lazar standing by the door; his signature grin and cocksure posture intact. It occurred to Damen that the man had no reason to be there unless…wakefulness hit him like a bolt of lightening.

‘Where is he? What happened? Is he all right?’ He blurted the questions out one after the other, vaguely aware of the fact that he’d walked across the room in record time, and now held Lazar’s collar firmly in his hands. 

‘His Highness is safe,’ Lazar assured patiently, as if he’d already expected to be treated in such a way upon arrival. ‘Now if you let me go, I can tell you what I came here to report.’ 

Damen’s grip loosened, and he took a step back.

Lazar looked to Nikandros, who stood a few paces away from Damen. ‘You sure you’d like to hear this as well? It’s rather nauseating.’ 

‘You better start talking Lazar,’ Damen warned. 

‘In the past three weeks, His Highness the King has appointed me to act as his shadow, to take note of his every move from dusk till dawn, and to eventually report them back to you on his behalf.’ 

Damen shook his head in confusion, the very thought of Laurent asking one of his men to to spy on him was strange. 

‘King Laurent takes his breakfast in his own chambers every morning, he spends an hour in the library reading Akielon folktales before rendezvousing with Princess Eloise at the gardens.’

Damen was rendered speechless; so he simply opted to listen, rather than ask any questions in fear of missing a beat of the vital information Lazar was feeding him.

‘The two of them have been on a total of three dates, during which His Highness has tried his hand at courtship, and has miserably failed—I might add—to impress Her Ladyship. A formidable pretence of genuine care on his part, I’d say.’

Damen swallowed bitterly. So Laurent had been forced to court her out of respect for Vere’s culture. The fact that it was nonconsensual did not make the prospect any less painful for Damen to stomach.

‘They have, of course, been chaperoned quite strictly prior to their marriage, and haven’t spent any alone time together neither in, nor outdoors. High Highness has gifted Princess Eloise with a box of chocolates, a bouquet of fresh flowers, and a wedding band signifying their engagement.’

‘A wedding band?’ Damen asked gruffly, having lost control of his emotions somewhere between Lazar’s speech. 

‘Yes, a generic one, not part of the royal family’s heirloom. The—’ Lazar paused to take a deep breath before continuing, ‘the wedding was quite a spectacle—a week full of feasts and dozens of ceremonies; by the end of it, Her Ladyship’s dancing skills were widespread with no rival in sight. King Laurent did not dance, nor smile, until someone brought up the new anti-slavery laws passed in Akielos. Then, he smiled radiantly.’ 

From the corner of his eye, he could see Nikandros shift uncomfortably, before finally giving in and mumbling ‘I’ll see you later’ and leaving the room in a hurry. Damen couldn't move; he was pinned in place by the gravity of Lazar’s words. 

‘They were blessed by a holy man from the clergy, and made to drink wine from the same cup as tradition demanded. King Torveld and his brother hastily returned to Patras, not wanting to leave their kingdom unattended longer than necessary. On the night of their wedding—’

Damen inhaled sharply, his pulse quickening; he had completely forgotten about Vere’s tradition for public consummations. Laurent hadn’t brought it up, and they’d never devised a plan on how he was going to avoid it.

The corners of Lazar’s mouth quirked upwards as he spoke, ‘—Princess Eloise had had a little too much to drink, so the event had to be postponed as Her Ladyship fainted right in King Laurent’s arms before they could even make it to the bed. She was carried back to her room by the servants. Needless to say, the members of the council were devastated that they had to go another day without witnessing their King’s size and prowess firsthand.’ 

Damen couldn’t believe Laurent’s audacity; the fact that he’d asked Eloise to play the inebriated bedmate was terribly risky. So they’d managed to fool the council, but that was merely a temporary fix for an issue whose sole remedy was sterility. Damen let out a shaking breath, trying to gather his thoughts. 

‘They sleep in separate rooms,’ Lazar said sympathetically. ‘As will you I assume?’ He looked around the chamber for evidence to the contrary. 

A surge of emotion blinded Damen again and he ran a hand over his face. ‘Is that…is that all he wants to know?’ He stepped into Lazar’s space, crowding him. ‘I send him letter after letter professing my love to him, asking him about his day, his health, his well-being; concerned about his sanity in that blasted court, wondering if he’s happy, if he thinks about me at all or if he inquires about how I’m fairing…’ Damen stopped himself from rambling on. What good would it do? Lazar was just a messenger, it was Laurent who had made a joke out of his affections. 

Lazar opened his mouth to speak but Damen silenced him, bending his back so that he was at eye-level with the slighter man. ‘I bore him my soul, but he responded by sending someone to report on his activities. And the only question he has, is whether I’m sleeping with Jokaste.’ He moved away then, needing some space to collect himself. 

‘His Highness is terribly lonely.’ Throughout the significant time he’d spent with Lazar, Damen had never heard him sound quite so serious. ‘He spends hours in the morning confined to his bed, away from everyone else. I know this because I get summoned everyday to take his orders. He doesn't say much; it’s like all his snark got carried away by the winds that led you away from him.’ 

The Veretian’s words tugged at something raw and exposed in Damen’s chest; it made him turn around. 

‘I don’t know what you said to him in the gardens before you left, but it has shaken him deeply.’

What had he said to Laurent? He’d told him that he loved him back, he’d kissed his face and said that he wanted to read sonnets to him. Had he really affected Laurent to the extent that his absence had caused the man to fall into depression? From what he knew of his lover, it seemed unlikely, but Lazar sounded sincere. 

‘I told him I loved him.’ 

Lazar’s face lit up in understanding. ‘He employed me to report his every move to you, because he knew you’d want to know. He asked me to follow him around, because he wanted me to give you an unbiased opinion on his interactions with his wife; he did all this because he wanted to put your mind at ease.’

‘Then why didn’t he write to me?’

Lazar exhaled impatiently, as if trying to put some inherent awareness into words for him. ‘I’ve been at His Highness’s service practically since he was a boy. When his brother was alive, he’d been a vibrant thing to behold, but through all these years, I’ve never seen that look on his face. That is, until now.’

‘What _look_?’ Damen asked, confused and on edge.

‘The look of a man who is madly in love; perhaps for the first time.’ 

Damen licked his lips, trying to connect everything in his head. 

‘He didn’t write you,’ Lazar explained, ‘because he didn’t know what to write. You may have had the opportunity to love and be loved by another, but my King never had. In his face I see the flush of new love, the tenderness of a budding relationship; but I also see fear. Fear of letting you down, fear of being rejected and discarded once his novelty wears out, fear—’

‘All right that’s enough,’ Damen ground out, disliking the intimate manner in which Lazar was describing Laurent. He watched the man approach him, and boldly place a hand on his shoulder, like he used to do when they all thought he was a slave. The gesture was oddly comforting, familiar in its intent. 

‘He didn’t ask you about your son, nor the wedding, because he hates feeling insignificant; less important. You are both responsible for the well-being of your nations, but aside from that, you are also bound to a newborn child and a wife with whom _you_ share a past. That’s enough to make any man insecure in his standing, let alone someone as isolated as King Laurent.’

Lazar’s words finally resonated with Damen, and he felt like the world’s biggest fool for not realizing the crux of the matter in the first place: Laurent was inexperienced, and had no frame of reference for what was happening between them, except for his toxic relationship with his uncle. No wonder he’d worried about his bond with Jokaste, seeing as everyone he’d cherished in his life had betrayed him. 

Damen suddenly came to a decision which—when shaped fully—became the only way for him to make amends. He squeezed Lazar’s bicep in gratitude and sprinted for the door, ignoring the yelps of surprise coming from his guards. Lazar ran after him and finally caught up as the guards announced his entrance.

Damen stepped into the room, and saw a very wet and exasperated Nikandros fumbling with a towel to conceal his modesty. 

‘Damen, I was in the middle—’

‘I need to ask you for a favour my friend.’

Nikandros simply gazed at him for a few seconds before sighing, preparing to agree to whatever insane plan Damen had came up with. 

‘I’m going to back to Vere to see Laurent.’

‘But…we’ll be seeing him at Marlas in a week.’ 

‘I know, but this can’t wait, so I’m going there undercover.’ He couldn’t conceal the sheer joy he felt at the idea of sweeping Laurent from his dingy room in Arles and taking him somewhere outside of his palace, where they could enjoy each other’s company for a few days, away from prying eyes.

Nikandros shook his head profusely, trying to point out all the reasons why this would be a bad idea. 

‘You can’t deter me from going through with this, so why don’t you just help me?’

‘Help you how exactly?’ Nikandros sounded slightly scared at the endless possible ways he could be used in Damen’s dangerous games. 

‘I need you to pose as the King of Akielos.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://akielos-vere.tumblr.com/


End file.
